


Two of Clubs

by pure1magination



Series: Hearts 'verse [2]
Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Civil War (Marvel), Drama, Dubious Morality, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Romance, bisexual Susan Storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Civilian unease towards superheroes is on the rise. There's Team Cap, there's Team Stark, Sentinels roam the streets. Innocent people are dying. It's hero against hero-- and that's only chapter one!<br/>__<br/>Civil War from the Fantastic Four and the X-Men's POV. Blends comic and movie 'verses.</p><p>(Note: you don't have to read Two of Hearts in order for Two of Clubs to make sense, but there are references to it throughout, and I would be eternally grateful if you did!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Johnny took a deep breath. His finger hovered over the green ‘dial’ button. A white screen stared back at him with two words that drowned out everything else: _Remy LeBeau._ The world seemed to narrow in on those two words, everything else dark and blurry and unimportant. Words raced through his head, “Hi, it’s me, Johnny!” “Hey! Remember me? Johnny! It’s Johnny.” “Remy?” His voice even cracks in his head. “Remy? It’s.. Remember Johnny? I’m me. It’s-” “Hi, I’m Johnny.”

[Tyrannosaur roar]

“JOHNNY!”

Dammit.

Johnny pocketed his phone in his flame-proof costume and shouted “Flame on!”

It was like a curse. Every time he got a spare moment, every time he worked up the courage to thumb through his contact list and pull up Remy’s name, something happened. There was another dinosaur attack, or another anomaly suddenly caused by the rift, and every goddamned time, his sister would bellow his name, and Johnny would have to exit hastily out of the contact screen and shove his phone right back in his pocket.

As Johnny helped fight yet another dinosaur, his mind was elsewhere. He threw flaming punches on autopilot, only half paying attention to the huge snapping jaws and the flailing tail. As awesome as fighting dinosaurs sounded, there was somewhere he would very much rather be.

*

Remy was beginning to wonder whether Johnny would call.

The first week he had been jovial and dismissive, certain that Johnny’s nerves had gotten in the way. It had been very clear that Johnny wanted to be with him, even if Johnny didn’t always know it. Remy had been completely confident in their bond, and in his own ability to charm people into giving him what he wants. “Give it time,” he’d advised anyone who had voiced concern.

Yet as the weeks wore on, even Remy’s confidence began to fade. He kept an eye on the news, paying especial attention to anything having to do with the Fantastic Four’s mission in Latveria, and after that, ranging all over several continents, at points where the rift had caused cracks in reality which were leaking odd, historical anomalies onto unsuspecting populations.

As far as Remy could tell, Johnny was all right. He was unusually quiet and battle-worn during interviews, but he still managed to make jokes, and each goofy or self-aggrandizing joke tugged at something deep in Remy’s chest.

Remy covered his own worry and pain by pretending to be less and less invested in the news, by dodging questions or giving flippant answers, and by keeping very busy. If he didn’t already have something to do, he would find something to do. He launched himself in the thick of battle almost daily.

The Sentinels roamed the streets, mountainous testaments to mankind’s fear of change. The government had accepted a proposal, allowing these giant ‘protectors’ to patrol for ‘unruly’ mutants. Their judgment, however, seemed to be a little… off. They caused more trouble than they prevented. The X-Men had their hands full defending innocent citizens from these monolithic monsters. Yet no matter how many lives they saved, all the news ever said was ‘violent’ and ‘refuse to obey the law’ and ‘damage to public property.’

Remy was on stakeout when his phone vibrated in his coat pocket. He slowly reached over to silence it, senses on high alert. He backed half a step further into the shadows, glanced at the caller ID.

It was an unknown number.

The building across the street bulged several floors up. A purple-and-silver metal arm burst through, sending a rain of bricks and debris on the street below. Remy shoved the phone back in his pocket without answering it. In one lightning-quick motion, he darted across the street, grabbed the mother with her stroller, ducked and rolled them out of the way, and held out his staff defensively to ward off the falling chunks of concrete.

Instead of crying and thanking him, the mother gave him a dirty look, smacked him across the cheek with her purse, grabbed her child’s hand tighter, and spat “Filthy mutants.” She was gone with her stroller and her small child before the red mark faded from his face.

A voice spoke into his pocket, too quiet for Remy to hear.

“Remy? Remy, it’s me, Johnny. Are you there?”

*

Spider-man glared through his opaque white eye covering. “You’re kidding me, right?” He swung on his web rope and delivered a powerful kick to the second-rate moron trying to destroy New York. The guy in the lab coat fell backwards onto the pavement and stared up at him in horror. “You’re kidding. _Please_ tell me you’re kidding.” He shot web at the guy in the lab coat until he was bound in an inescapable cocoon.

“He probably doesn’t even remember me!” Johnny sent a fireball at one of the creepy-crawly creatures flocking towards them.

Spider-man rolled his eyes so dramatically that his entire head followed the motion. He spun around and shot webs at the creepy-crawly creatures advancing on them. “Of _course_ he remembers you, flame-brain! Saving someone’s life kinda does that.”

“Okay, but if he remembers me, why didn’t he call me?” Johnny annihilated several creatures at once with a jet of flame from his palm.

“Uh, maybe because you didn’t give him your number?”

“I called him though!”

“And didn’t leave a message.” Spider-man webbed several creatures at once. “Or try calling him again.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?! How do I know it was even the right number?!” Johnny torched the whole lot of them until the creatures were little more than a pile of smoldering limbs.

Spider-man wrinkled his nose. His mask scrunched. “Ugh, that’s disgusting!”

Johnny covered his nose with one hand. “They smell like last time Reed tried to make barbecue!”

The guy in the labcoat tried to say something defensive about his creation, and seemed pretty angry, but Spider-man had webbed a gag over his mouth, so whatever it was was muffled.

“What’s that?” Spider-man cupped a hand to the side of his head. “You think these belong in the trash? I couldn’t agree more!” He webbed the smoking pile and dunked it into the nearest dumpster. He smacked his hands together as though dusting them off.

“What do we do with this guy?”

“The usual.”

Spider-man shared a smile with Johnny.

The guy in the labcoat stared at them in horror.

Spider-man created a giant spider-web on the nearest building with ‘you’re’ scrawled across the top and ‘welcome’ scrawled across the bottom. “Seriously though,” he said as he worked, “You should call him.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if that’s why he didn’t answer? What if he wants to break up with me, and that’s why he didn’t say anything? What if he thinks we’re already broken up? What if he heard my voice and the second he knew it was me, he was like ‘oh fuck’ and pretended he couldn’t hear me? What if he was on a date with someone else? I’ve been gone for like three months. He totally could have found someone else by now.”

“Johnny,” Spider-man huffed with an air of exasperation, “Those are all what-ifs. You’re not gonna know until you talk to him.”

Johnny watched his friend pick up the guy in the labcoat and secure him to the center of the giant spider-web. Doubts raced through his head, crashing into each other in a giant tangle of worry. He balled his hands into tight fists, as though he could punch the fears away.

Spider-man hopped down from the web, landing nimbly on the concrete. He took a few steps towards his friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, Johnny.” He gripped Johnny’s shoulder tighter and pushed at him lightly. “Call him.”

*

“There’s never a moment of peace around here,” Ben grumbled the second Johnny walked in the door.

“Great to see you too, Ben.”

Ben glowered and gestured to the kitchen. Susan was shouting.

Johnny settled next to Ben on the couch and stole a handful of cheesy snack mix. “What is it this time?”

In lieu of answering, Ben just waited for the volume to escalate again.

“Tony’s right!” Reed snapped. “We _do_ need regulation. We’re out of control. All those dinosaurs and Mongols and wooly mammoths? Those are _our fault_ , Susan. People with extraordinary abilities need to be put under extraordinary control, because we bare extraordinary _responsibility._ That rift was _our_ responsibility, Susan.”

“But it wasn’t our fault! We didn’t even _create_ that rift! Are you _listening_ to yourself, Reed?! You sound just like all those news broadcasts painting us as some sort of teenage rebels! We’re not! We know what we’re doing!”

“If we knew what we were doing, things like that wouldn’t happen.”

“But they do! Because guess what, Reed, nobody’s perfect! You can’t control the entire world, and putting regulations like this into law are only going to cause _more_ problems than they fix, because they’re going to place restrictions on the very people who can _help.”_

“I fail to see how opening a rift in space-time constitutes ‘helping.’”

“We _closed_ the rift in space-time!”

“Not fast enough.”

“We got there as quickly as we could! What do you think would happen if government bureaucracy complicated the process? Whoever is sent after the next disaster is going to be delayed. We won’t be free agents anymore, Reed! We’ll be assigned posts, duties, and even _teams_ based on what the government wants!”

“That’s fear-mongering, Susan.”

“And what you’re saying _isn’t?!”_

“I realize that it could be construed that way, but this is necessary, Susan. The bottom line is, we need the public to trust us again. Our whole mission is to keep the public safe.”

“That’s what we’re _trying to do!”_

“Then we’re in agreement.”

“NO! We’ve never been _further_ from agreement-!”

Ben gave a weary sigh.

“How long has this been going on?” Johnny asked, reaching for another handful of snack mix.

“Couple hours.” Ben crammed his mouth full of the crunchy snack food, hoping it would drown out their incessant arguing.

“You agree with ‘em?”

Ben crunched and glowered into the distance wearily.

“The whole _nation_ is taking sides, Susan!” Reed snapped. “Whether you like it or not, we have a civil war on our hands. This government regulation will put an _end_ to the infighting!”

Susan’s voice was cold. “That is exactly the kind of thinking that started this mess.” She turned on her heel and strode into the living room, bringing a trail of chill in the air. “Stay here if you want,” she told Johnny and Ben, “I’m leaving.”

“Susan,” Reed reprimanded, following her, hand outstretched.

“No.” She smacked his hand away. She removed her wedding ring and threw it on the floor. “I’m done with you.”

“Susan!” Reed shouted.

“Good-bye, Reed.” Susan grabbed a set of keys and left. The door slammed behind her.

Reed stared at the door. The color drained from his face.

Heavy silence fell over the three of them.

Finally, Ben stood, letting Johnny catch the snack bowl and do whatever he wanted with it. “That’s it,” Ben announced. “I’ve had enough of this.”

“Ben,” Reed ground out in a voice like broken glass.

Ben threw on a trenchcoat and a fedora. “I’m joinin’ the X-Men. They’re the only people smart enough to stay neutral in this mess.” He grabbed the doorknob. Almost as an afterthought, he called, “You comin’, Johnny?”

Johnny sat frozen on the couch, holding a bowl of snack mix with both hands. “…You go ahead, Ben.”

“Suit yerself.” Ben tipped his fedora in a silent good-bye, twisted the doorknob, and made his exit.

Johnny closed the door to his room behind him and set about packing his things.

Reed Richards remained, alone, in the empty living room. Very slowly, he crossed the few short steps to where Susan’s ring lay glinting on the ground. He picked it up with great care. He stared at the ring, shell-shocked, as though holding it different ways in the light would reveal some secret answer. He stood there for a long time, staring at the ring.

Johnny emerged from his room with three suitcases and a backpack. He rushed outside to throw them in the back of his red Corvette.

Reed watched through the living room window as Johnny shoved the suitcases into his trunk and tossed the backpack into the back seat.

Johnny bounded back in, grabbed two more suitcases and a set of keys, and said “Seeya later, Reed,” in a voice that said he wasn’t really sure if he meant that.

Johnny climbed into his car and turned the ignition.

“Later, Johnny,” Reed said to the closed front door as Johnny backed down the driveway.


	2. Chapter 2

Adrenaline sent Johnny’s senses on high alert as he stepped into the X Mansion. The hair on his arms stood on-end. He clutched the handle of his backpack tighter. Memories washed over him.

This was where he’d said good-bye to Remy.

Even though it was midday, the mansion was oddly quiet. As Johnny headed down the familiar path towards his room, he felt every step as though he ought to be running into someone, and yet his path remained clear. “Where is everyone?” he wondered aloud as he set down his backpack.

“Gone fishin’,” came Ben’s response.

“Ben?”

“Kitchen.”

Ben was reclined on the reinforced kitchen chair, fedora tipped low, a spoonful of peanut butter in his hand. The jar sat, half-empty, on the table.

“Decided to join me after all,” Ben observed. He dipped his spoon into the jar and scooped out a large spoonful. “Figured ya would.”

“Yeah, well.” Johnny shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like I was gonna stay with _Reed.”_

“And your sister?” Ben said without looking up.

Johnny shuddered. “Not in a hurry to chase after her right now. She’s kind of in a mood.”

“Really,” Ben deadpanned. “Didn’t notice.”

Johnny crossed his arms, uncomfortable. It was too quiet. He could hear Ben moving the peanut butter around in his mouth, hear those weird rocky lips smacking, the scrape of the spoon in the container, Ben swallowing—

“Reckon it’s really over this time?”

Johnny pulled a face. “Is it bad that I kinda hope so?”

Ben remained silent. He slowly pulled the spoon out of his mouth. His gigantic hand dwarfed the small piece of metal.

Johnny pushed away from the doorway. “I’m gonna gather the rest of my stuff.”

He didn’t wait for Ben’s answer, or Ben’s non-answer. He strolled down the oddly empty hallways, outside to his red Corvette, and grabbed a couple more suitcases.

The more times he walked up and down these familiar hallways and didn’t run across a single person, the weirder Johnny felt. There was this nagging feeling that he was missing something important, like the reason for their absence was nagging just out of reach at the corner of his brain, ever-so-slightly too quiet to hear. Yet Johnny couldn’t think of a single reason why everyone would be gone.

He unpacked his things and shoved them into drawers and closets, returned his room to a familiar, homey sense of disarray, and neatly packed away his red leather designer luggage, stowed it in his closet, and surveyed the room. One dresser drawer was slightly ajar. One sock hung out over the top of another one. One drawer was pushed in crooked. His deodorant, wallet, sunglasses, and keys lay, tossed in a careless pile, on the dresser. It looked a lot like his room back at the Fantastic Four HQ, which Johnny wasn’t sure he’d ever be coming back to. It was a weird feeling- almost hollow, but with a sense of something new.

Johnny poked his head in the kitchen, where Ben was cramming an expired box of chocolate-chip cookies into his mouth. “Have you seen anyone?”

“Nope.” A few crumbs flew out. Ben licked his fingers.

Johnny sighed. “I’m gonna go see if I can find someone.”

“Suit yerself.”

Johnny popped the collar to his leather jacket and crammed his hands in his jeans pockets. It was a real shame to waste his best cologne, his sexiest hundred-dollar jeans, and his motorcycle jacket on a nonexistent audience, or on the style-blind Ben Grimm. The only marginally stylish thing Ben had ever worn was that fedora, and Johnny strongly suspected it had been a gift.

Another stroll around the mansion yielded more unsettling silence, several empty rooms, and a rising sense of anxiety. Johnny nearly screamed when he bumped into a wall of soft, blue fur.

“Johnny!” Hank exclaimed, delighted. “How wonderful it is to see you!” He held out a large, clawed hand for Johnny to shake.

“Holy shit!” Johnny gasped, clutching one hand over his chest. “Where did you even _come_ from?”

Hank frowned slightly. “The medical wing.” He gestured right behind him. “I was running a few tests on an experiment of mine regarding stem cells. –Are you all right, Mister Storm? You seem a little shaken.”

“I’m fine. Where the hell _is_ everybody? This place is like a ghost town!”

“Haven’t you heard?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Heard what?”

Hank took off his glasses and rubbed one of the lenses with the edge of his lab coat. “Oh, Johnathan. It’s terrible, simply terrible.”

“What?” The feeling of dread that had been haunting Johnny all day caught up with him and wrapped its coiling tendrils around his lungs. “What happened?” He gulped. “Did someone _die?”_

Hank shook his big, furry head slowly. “I’m afraid there’s been a… misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? Of what? Who? Is everyone okay?!”

Hank examined his glasses mournfully in the fluorescent hallway light. “The Sentinels are targeting us all.”

“The what now?”

Hank sighed heavily and placed his glasses upon his face. “The government thought it would be wise to place stricter regulations on individuals who possess certain... unusual abilities.”

“Yeah, I heard about that this morning. So what?”

“Some individuals were content with the regulations proposed in a series of paperwork, which is due to be voted on in the near future—a set of bills pertaining to the registration and regulation of any extraordinarily gifted individuals. However, not everyone was content that these regulations would effectively ensure the safety of civilians. Therefore, a senator who has long hated us has struck up a deal with the government, regarding supposed guardians which he refers to as ‘Sentinels.’ These Sentinels were supposed to target those mutants which were driven to violence, causing harm to individuals. But the systems seem to be malfunctioning. They are targeting all of mutantkind.”

“Damn,” was the only thing Johnny could think to say.

“We have been fighting them night and day, day and night, these past few months.”

“Is that where Remy-? …where everyone went?”

“Gambit went missing a while ago. He heard that the Sentinels were killing innocent mutants in New Orleans, his home town, and since there are no superheroes native to the area, he left in order to protect whoever the Sentinels were sent to destroy. A few X-Men offered to accompany him, but he insisted on going alone. We have not heard from him since.”

Johnny clenched his hands in his pockets. “Oh.”

“Fear not, young Mister Storm.” Hank laid a huge, furry hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “He is likely still alive and doing just fine.”

“Sure.” Johnny shrugged out of his grasp.

“He often leaves without warning, and returns when he is ready,” Hank assured him. “He is much like a cat, that way.”

“Hard to pin down,” joined a third, familiar voice.

“Professor,” Hank greeted.

“Hank. Johnny.” Professor X bowed his head in greeting.

“I was just catching Mister Storm up on the events which have come to pass in his team’s absence.”

“Yes, thank you, McCoy.” The professor steepled his fingers. His piercing gray eyes fixated on Johnny. “Speaking of which, where is the rest of your team?”

“Ben’s here. Reed and Susan, I dunno. They got into a fight this morning.”

“So I heard,” the professor murmured. “I trust you find your accommodations as comforting as they were before?”

“Yeah. A little quiet though.” Johnny wondered how the professor knew about Reed and Susan’s fight.

“That will be remedied shortly. In the meantime, please feel free to settle in.”

“Thanks.” Johnny stared after the professor’s retreating back as his hover-chair maneuvered down the quiet hallway. He didn’t stand in the hallway too long, though, because standing alone in that long, gray-carpeted, florescent-lit hallway felt too much like a scene from a horror movie.

Johnny shook off the feeling of unease and tried to ignore the heaviness in his chest that weighted down each step. He held onto the assurance that Remy was probably alive. That had to be enough for now. Remy wouldn’t just die and not tell him. Would he?

“Johnny?!” exclaimed a familiar voice.

Johnny looked up just in time to be knocked over by a blur of hot pink and bright yellow. Boobs smushed up against his abs. Wiry arms clamped around his back. Short, jet-black hair tickled his chin. She smelled like sulfur and bubblegum.

Jubilee pulled back just enough to grin at him. “You’re back!” she exclaimed. “How was Europe?!”

“Uh.”

“Ohmygosh, _Kitty!_ Look who’s back!” Jubilee spun around, pulling Johnny with her, and gestured to him emphatically.

A girl with wavy brown hair raised one hand hesitantly to wave at him.

“Johnny,” ground out a bitter voice. The girl with white streaks in her hair shouldered her way past him and stomped away.

“Rogue!” Jubilee reprimanded.

The girl kept walking.

“What’s her deal?” Johnny wondered, frowning.

Jubilee rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s a long story. So what are you doing here? Did you decide to join the X-Men?” She punched him in the shoulder and grinned.

“Nah. –Well, maybe.” Johnny rubbed his shoulder. “The team kind of… disbanded.”

“The Fantastic Four?!” Jubilee gaped. “Oh no! What happened?”

“Uh.” Johnny cleared his throat and pulled on the familiar veil of casual distance. “Susan got into another fight with Reed. Threw her ring on the floor. You know.” He shrugged one shoulder.

Jubilee regarded him with deep concern. “They broke up?”

“Eh.” Johnny made a non-committal gesture.

“Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry!”

“They fight a lot. It’s not really a big deal. –Hi, Kurt.”

Nightcrawler paused mid-stride to smile weakly at Johnny and raise one hand in greeting. “You say Susan has left Reed, mein freund?”

“Guys, seriously. They fight all the time.” Johnny shifted uncomfortably.

“Vhere is she?”

“I don’t know! Where were all of _you?_ When I got here the place was empty!”

“We’ve all been out taking shifts, fighting the Sentinels,” Jubilee answered. Her coat was scuffed, and there was a black smear across her cheek. Johnny hadn’t noticed these things before.

“’Tis a very tiring process,” Nightcrawler agreed. “Especially since, vonce ve save whoever zey are after, zey target us as vell.”

“Yeah. We’ve knocked out at _least_ twelve of them this week,” Jubilee rejoined.

“And there’s only gonna be more,” Wolverine growled. He kicked the door shut behind him and strode towards the small gathering in the foyer, a glower fixed upon his face. “Government’s stepping up ‘protection.’ Sending out a wave of new units.”

Jubilee groaned.

“Isn’t this enough?”

“Wish it was, Kitty,” Wolverine answered. “Wish it was.”

“How do you know zey’re sending out new units?”

“Informant,” he answered. “Johnny,” he said in his own rough version of a ‘hello.’ “Heard your sister’s Team Cap.”

“Uh.” Johnny frowned at him blankly.

“Been thinking of joinin’ up, myself.”

“You vould forsake ze Professor’s direct orders?”

“Not to get involved? Fuck yeah.”

“But you won’t be under his protection!” Jubilee warned.

Wolverine almost laughed. It came out as more of a scoff. “Like I need his protection. Or anyone else’s.”

“But, Wolvie-!” Jubilee pouted.

Wolverine held up a hand. “Easy, kid. Just said I was thinkin’ about it. –You gonna be stayin’ with us for a while?” he asked Johnny.

“Yeah,” Johnny answered uncertainly.

“Good. We could use another set of hands. ‘Specially since the Cajun left.” He eyed Johnny up and down like he was deciding whether Johnny was worth anyone’s time. “Go team,” he said in a voice which expressed a general distaste for teams of any kind. And with that, he stalked off.

“You can patrol with _me,_ ” Jubilee said, hugging Johnny’s arm. “And afterward, I can kick your ass at Crash Bandicoot.”

“Uh, you _wish_ you could kick my ass at Crash Bandicoot.”

“Tell that to my high score,” Jubilee taunted.

“You bastard.”

Jubilee stuck out her tongue.

“I’m gonna wipe you off the scoreboard!”

“You can try!” Jubilee sing-songed.

They headed for the game room, jostling each other’s elbows and shoulders all the way.

 

**Five Hours Ago**

Susan accelerated down the interstate in her silver-blue Porsche with tears in her eyes. The song on the radio wasn’t helping. She gripped the wheel tightly with both hands, her manicured nails reaching around the edge to indent crescents into her palms. Susan focused on the road, and the pain of her nails biting into her skin. The yellow-gray clouds blanketing the sky overhead made everything seem dim and bleak.

Susan’s left ring finger still had an indentation where the ring used to be. She tried to avoid looking at it or thinking about it. The angry red lines taunted her peripheral vision every time she turned left.

She didn’t know where she was going. She wasn’t sure who she could talk to. The collapse of her marriage felt heavy enough to crush her alive. She’d seen it coming. She’d felt the beams weakening, told herself over and over again it was just the sound of the house settling, rather than the boards rotting, but as the years had worn on, her attachment to Reed had only weakened and eroded. The love which she had hoped would grow, had withered and crumbled to pieces. And it had hurt so much more that Reed’s love never wavered.

The cold emptiness Susan carried around inside her had caused her to lash out for so long. She was becoming someone she didn’t like. She felt brittle, like ice, all the time, like the smallest thing might cause her to shatter. She hated the feeling.

For months now, Susan had been hoping for a sign, wishing that something would turn it all around, remind her why she married Reed in the first place. Instead, she had been granted one last fight.

It was enough to tip the scale.

Yet even though she knew it was a long time coming, even though she knew it was the right thing to do, the horrible aftershocks in her gut pulled every string of doubt they could find. Thoughts like, _it wasn’t so bad, Reed loved me, we could have made it work if I tried harder_. Susan eclipsed those thoughts with the bitter anger she’d felt when Reed insisted that paperwork and government regulations were the way to save lives.

After an hour of driving, she knew where she wanted to go.

The sadness and doubt were chased away by a sense of purpose. Her words had not been empty. She was going to save lives.

She marched straight into S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “Where’s Captain Rogers?” she demanded.

“That depends,” said the woman at the desk, “Are you here to apprehend him?”

Susan produced a force-field bubble in her hand. “I could.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and narrowed her mouth. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, then.” She turned around. Her honey-blond waves swirled between her shoulderblades. She bent over to retrieve a file. Her charcoal-gray pencil skirt clung becomingly to her ass.

Susan leaned over the desk, bracing herself on her elbows. “Aren’t you trying to stop him?”

“Trying to prevent further damage, yes,” the woman answered, setting the file down and reaching into a drawer full of office supplies.

“What if I’m concerned about his well-being?”

The woman met her eyes. The woman’s irises were an unusual shade of gold-and-jade. They were very pretty. “Then I’d say that’s a different story.” She grabbed a notepad without breaking eye contact. “Are you here to protect him?” she asked quietly.

“I’m here to _join_ him,” Susan answered just as quietly.

The woman’s eyes glinted, but she held her expression neutral. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.” She wrote something on the notepad. “Captain Rogers is to be arrested on sight.” She tore off the page and slid it forward. “He is a danger to himself and to others.” She sat down on her chair and folded her hands. “I’d suggest you keep yourself out of trouble.” Her mouth turned up at the corners in a smile.

Susan subtly pocketed the paper. “Sorry to disturb you.” She took a moment to observe the woman’s perfect make-up and the way her white blouse hugged her becoming curves. The woman smelled lightly of jasmine and peaches.

“You take care of yourself, ma’am.” The woman put up the pretense of resuming her work.

“I will.”

Susan exited the building and drove a safe distance away before taking the paper out of her pocket. What she found was a jumble of numbers and letters, which she hoped was some sort of code. She tried various combinations on her StarkPhone until she found a result that made sense.

She smiled.

They were coordinates.

 

**Two Hours Ago**

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Maria Hill said, her red lips tilted in a smirk which contradicted her protectively crossed arms.

“Wouldn’t have t’ meet like this if you’d show me how you got your intel,” Wolverine said around his cigarette. The orange tip glowed in the dark forest.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“So what’ve you got?”

Ms. Hill tilted her head and made a casual survey of their surroundings. “No movement tonight. But he’s got a new team member.”

“’Nother super-powered vigilante creep outta the woodworks?”

“More like, came to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ looking for Captain America.”

Wolverine snorted. “Not a smart move.”

“She got lucky. Agent 13 was on duty.”

“That _is_ lucky.” Wolverine blew out a plume of smoke between pursed lips.

Ms. Hill wrinkled her nose. She had a distaste for smoke. “If it had been anyone else, she would have been taken into custody. I don’t think she’s been keeping track of the news.”

“Am I gonna get a name?”

“Intel?”

Wolverine sneered, but there was a trace of humor behind his curled lip. “The Professor insists on remaining neutral. Some’a the younger ones are gettin’ restless, wish we could take sides. But what The Professor says, goes.”

“Any word on Gambit?”

“Still missin’.”

She nodded. Glanced off to the side. “Susan Storm.”

Wolverine’s eyes widened. Feral interest made them glint. “You don’t say,” he said slowly.

“The Fantastic Four returned from Europe yesterday morning. They seem to have contained all the known anomalies from The Rift.”

“And she’s Team Cap?”

“It would seem so.” There was an odd note to Ms. Hill’s voice, as though she was almost distracted. Her brow crinkled. “There’s one more thing.”

Wolverine regarded her with absolute attention.

“She wasn’t wearing her ring.”

 

**One Hour Ago**

Susan wasn’t sure whether she was in the right place. The coordinates had led her to an abandoned parking lot, surrounded by empty fields. The asphalt was broken in chunks. Weeds crept up between the cracks, some almost two feet tall. The few streetlights around the parking lot had long ago been broken or twisted, their lightbulbs smashed. The only evidence that a building had ever been there was a slab of concrete speckled with rusty metal. Susan was beginning to wonder whether she’d been intentionally sent to the wrong place. She killed the lights on her Porsche and quieted the engine, and waited.

The stars overhead were almost completely obscured by clouds. The road was eerily empty of cars. Other than crickets, and the occasional breeze ruffling the nearby fields, Susan was immersed in complete silence.

Doubts piled onto each other in her head, morphing into what felt like an assassination plot by S.H.I.E.L.D. No one would know she was here. That was the point, wasn’t it? There would be no witnesses to her death. She would disappear, or be made an example of, a reason not to join Cap’s side, a warning to others who hope for change.

She nearly screamed when something large landed two yards from her car. The shadow uncurled from a crouch and stood, folding in its wings. Susan prepared herself to fight back against whatever-it-was. Her quickened breaths fogged her window.

“Susan?” asked a young man’s voice.

“Stay away from me!” she warned.

“Hold up.” The guy held his hands out non-threateningly. “I’m here to help.”

Susan debated whether this was a tactic to lure her out of her car and try to kill her by catching her off-guard.

The guy sighed. He clicked on the flashlight on his cell phone, turned it around, and illuminated his face. He wore red goggles, had close-cropped hair, smartly trimmed facial hair, and a gap between his front teeth. “Ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m Team Cap. And I’m the way you get in.”

Susan took a deep breath. She rolled down her window. “Sam?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Falcon?”

“That’s what they call me. Has a nice ring to it.” He smiled and held out a hand. “Heard you’ve had a rough time of it lately.”

Susan exhaled with relief. “It’s not so bad. I’ve always wanted to visit Europe.”

Sam smirked. “Cap will be happy to hear that. You, uh—you’ve got a lot of stuff with you. That’s more than I expected.” He was peering around her, into her car. The back seat was piled with suitcases.

Susan stared at her hands on the steering wheel. “I moved out.”

Sam paused, then nodded. “We’ll find you a place to stay.”

“Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“All due respect,” Sam said, climbing into the passenger’s seat, “If I wanted to avoid trouble, I never woulda made friends with Cap in the first place.”

 

**Present**

“Leave your stuff in the car.”

Susan nervously pocketed her keys. “Why don’t I feel very welcome?”

“No one is,” Sam answered, surveying the building with wary eyes. He closed his hand around her wrist and tugged her forward.

“I thought Cap wanted people to join his side.”

“He does.” Sam led them through a set of double-doors and placed his open hand on a scanner. “But there’s one thing that’s more important.”

“What’s that?”

The door hissed open. They stepped through, into a darkened room.

A gun clicked.

“Hold it right there!” ordered the stern voice of Captain America.

Sam and Susan held up their hands. Captain America was crouched on a staircase, his shield held up to protect himself and the person behind him. The person behind him, the person who had a top-notch sniper rifle trained on them and who looked just a hair away from mentally unstable, was—

“Protecting Bucky Barnes,” Sam answered. “Hey Cap.”

“Sam,” he answered, not moving. “Who have you brought with you?”

“Cap,” Sam said, stepping aside, his hands still held aloft, “This is Susan. She’s here to join your team.”

“Bucky,” Cap ordered, “Lower your gun.”

Slowly, his glare still fixed on them, Bucky lowered his gun.

“Step forward,” Cap ordered Susan.

Silently, Susan took one step forward, then another, approaching Captain America.

“Stop right there.”

Susan stopped.

“Why have you joined my team?”

She notched up her chin. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Captain America nodded once, dropped his shield, clipped it behind his back, and descended the staircase. “Sorry for the-” He gestured to himself and Bucky. “-Greeting. You’d be surprised how many attempts we’ve had on Bucky’s life.”

“Well, I’m here to prevent that,” Susan answered smoothly.

“Good.” For the first time, Cap’s eyes seemed to smile. He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The fondness that passed from him to Bucky was palpable.

Bucky just looked down, like he was guilty for something.

Captain America squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and took half a step closer to him, like he could somehow absorb Bucky’s pain if he willed it hard enough. He turned his gaze to Susan. “What powers do you have?”

“Shields,” Susan listed off. “Force fields. Invisibility.”

“Invisibility,” Captain America repeated. His eyes glittered. “I think we could use that.”

“You’re in luck then.” Susan crossed her arms over her chest. “They call me The Invisible Woman.”


	3. Chapter 3

Reed had no idea how long he stood there staring at Susan’s ring. The world seemed to narrow in on itself until the only sound was the blood rushing in his ears, the only sensation akin to being crushed by a glacier. He was dimly aware of Susan driving away with all of her things. He was dimly aware of Johnny doing the same thing. Whether he said good-bye to them, he did not know. Reality felt strange and shifted, like waking from a dream.

Some time after Johnny left, the sun began to set. He noticed this because the lighting changed; it grew pink-gold and the wind picked up. He realized his feet hurt.

Reed sat down on his empty couch, and surveyed the empty room. An abandoned bowl of snack mix leaned against a cushion. The curtains were open, the lawn vast and evenly clipped and empty. He had the odd thought that there weren’t enough bushes. They seemed trimmed too small, dwarfed by the huge front lawn. Instead of keeping him safe, the wrought-iron fence seemed like a cage.

He knew their viewscreen had a direct line to Professor X. He knew that was where Ben had gone. It wouldn’t surprise him if Johnny had followed suit. They squabbled like brothers, but there was a comforting solidity to the constancy of their bickering.

Reed needed something solid right now. And yet, he did not dial the number. He felt as though his bones were made of hollowed-out lead, empty and heavy all at once.

The ring sat, heavy, in his pocket. He still wore his own. He had bought both of them; they were rightly his. He could wear that ring forever if he wanted to.

Yet, oddly, the ring, too, felt like a cage.

Susan had always accused him of thinking too much. She accused him of being too logical, too scientific, too attached to his work. She had complained that he didn’t do enough, didn’t fight enough, wasn’t there for her enough. She never seemed to understand how much he accomplished in the lab. She never seemed to appreciate all the small ways he’d made their job easier, the ways he’d improved operations for the entire team. All she ever saw were his shortcomings.

And yet Reed had never faced her with bitterness. He had always strived to be better, attempted to give Susan the things she needed. Sure, he’d gotten distracted. There were always projects vying for his attention, breakthroughs begging to be discovered. Susan just… didn’t appreciate that.

She had loved him for his brilliance, once. Reed wondered where the years had gone.

When they had gotten married at twenty-two and twenty-three, they had both seemed ready. Reed had been sure he was marrying the love of his life, someone who would take care of him and stand by him through thick and thin. She had been so beautiful in that wedding dress…

How had he ended up here?

The sun had nearly set when he made his decision. Instead of moping around over the shambles of his marriage, Reed would take action. Susan had inadvertently granted him room to work on his research. Nothing could stop him now.

Yet it wasn’t one of the many dangling projects which caught Reed’s attention, but rather, an idea.

This was how he found himself ringing the front door of Stark Tower.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced, “A Mister Richards is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” Tony said without looking up.

Tony was kneeling on the floor next to what looked like an artificial leg. He tightened a bolt, wincing with the effort. He bent to examine the product from a different angle, then loosened that one and tightened it again.

He startled only slightly at the timid knock on the doorframe. He flipped his work goggles up over his messy hair and raised his eyebrows at the newcomer. “’Sup.” He picked up a grease-stained rag and wiped off his fingers.

“I’m here to join your cause.”

“Great!” Tony tugged a particularly dirty finger along the rag again. “I have a lot of causes. Care to be more specific?”

“I believe that signing those documents into law is the way to facilitate peace and safety.”

“Ah.” Tony tossed the rag on the floor. _“That_ cause. Yeah, that one’s been a real pain in my ass lately,” he rambled as he crossed the room. “Been getting lots of stress headaches. Tried yoga, meditation,” he paused to open a can of cucumber-flavored soda and gulp down a few mouthfuls. “-Tea. Nothin’!” He popped a blueberry between his teeth. “So what’ve you got to offer? Because I can tell you right now, I am hilariously outgunned. And I _hate_ that I have to say that.”

“I used to work for NASA,” Reed offered.

Tony made a clicking sound and pointed a finger at Reed. “NASA! Great company, great organization. Rejected my rocket modifications. Anything else?” He took a bite out of an apple Reed didn’t even see him pick up.

“I can… stretch.”

“You gonna try to teach me yoga or something?”

Reed reached across the room, picked up a screwdriver, and held it out for Tony to see.

Tony raised his eyebrows. _“Nice._ Hey, wait a minute, I think I’ve heard of you. Nice guy, worked with rockets, went on that-” Tony gestured vaguely “-space mission, with the cosmic rays? Leader of the Fantastic Four?”

“That’s me.”

“Excellent!” Tony slapped him on the shoulder. “I am down to a treacherous double-crossing double-agent, a Wakandan warrior-king who has decided to take the peaceful route, a space-robot who’s in love with someone on Team Cap, and my crippled best friend, who by the way, is in the hospital in a coma. Cap’s fault. And Cap-” Tony took another bite of his apple “-has got an expert archer, a Soviet assassin, a guy who can shrink and _apparently_ grow to amazing sizes, an ex-air force army guy who can fly, and a woman who can control things with her mind. So.” Tony swallowed. “Any help is _greatly_ appreciated.”

An air of bitterness hung about Tony, simmering under a thin and controlled surface. Reed at once felt a kinship with Tony. “I have six PhD’s, two Nobel prizes, friends in NASA, and a friendly contact with the prince of Atlantis.”

“You,” Tony gestured to Reed with the pointy end of his screwdriver, “are a godsend. Here, come help me with this.” He picked up one end of the leg-thing he was working on.

Reed Richards knelt beside Tony Stark and did whatever he was instructed to do.

*

As Wolverine headed down the darkened hall, his ears perked at the sound of someone crying. He paused, discerning the direction of the sound. He zeroed in on the door which was hanging about two inches open. Silently, he pushed the door until he could see into the room.

Sure enough, there was Rogue, her back turned to the window, face buried against her knees, shoulders shaking. She sniffled and gripped her knees tighter. She sobbed quietly.

Logan sat down on the bed next to her.

She looked up as soon as the mattress shifted, startled, angry, and guilty all at once. “Oh,” she said. “It’s _you.”_

“I know why you’re mad at me, Rogue,” he began, “but it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding my ass. You don’t know _anything._ ”

Logan sighed. “So it’s gonna be like that, huh?”

“Gonna be like _what._ ”

He weighed his words carefully. “Look, I know you have… certain… _feelings_ for me, but-”

“But what?!” she shouted. “You like me too! I can _feel_ it! I was inside your _head,_ Logan! You can’t lie to me!”

“Rogue, we can’t be… what you want us to be. That can’t happen.”

“Why not?!” she rounded on him. “I like you, and you like me. _Why_ can’t this happen?!”

“You’re too young for me.”

“Bullshit!”

“AnneMarie.” Logan stood. “I have been alive longer than Captain America. I am _older_ than Captain America, ‘cept I never went under the ice. I _lived_ through all those years. And I’m going to be alive for probably hundreds of years after this, thanks to my fucking healing factor. I have loved and lost enough for four lifetimes. But you?” His eyes were ancient and pained. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, while I’ve got several behind me. Far as I know, you haven’t even had your first _kiss_ yet, and what you want from me…” He balled his hands into fists and turned away. “I can’t do that.”

“You think I couldn’t handle a serious relationship?” Rogue challenged, voice wavering.

“I know you can’t.”

“Just because I’ve never dated anyone long enough to _kiss_ someone?”

“Rogue-”

“I CAN’T KISS ANYBODY EXCEPT FOR _YOU!”_

Her anguished shout reverberated throughout the large dorm room. Logan realized he’d misstepped. Of course she couldn’t kiss anyone. If she tried, she’d probably kill them.

“…Is that what this is really about?” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You’re scared I’m your only chance?”

Her fists were clenched so tight, the bones of her knuckles were visible under her skin. Her arms were shaking. “I _know_ you are.” Large tears fell.

“AnneMarie.” The word was soft, heartfelt. He crossed the room and pulled her into a comforting hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. Her arms came around him and held him tight. She trembled against him, sobbing into his shirt. He gently shushed her and stroked her tangled hair. “There are other guys out there who can touch you, even better than I can.”

She clung tighter and sobbed like she didn’t believe him.

“You’ve just gotta be creative.” His optimism rang false, even to him. “And hey, I know it’s a long time coming, but if Hank could figure out a way to get me back to normal… Well, maybe he could find a cure.”

She sniffled. Hopeful green eyes regarded him, beautiful even when bloodshot. He tried to feel like a father towards her, but the body pressed against his was that of a woman. She wasn’t fully an adult yet, but she had absorbed so many memories and experiences, there was deep agelessness in her pupils which belonged to those ten years her senior. He glanced at her mouth and immediately pulled his eyes away. “You think so?” she asked softly, and for a moment Logan forgot what he’d just said.

He pulled away with a half-smile, establishing safe distance between them. He made a mental note not to allow himself to be alone with her. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”

She sniffled. “You’d do that for me?”

He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you do that for yourself?”

She regarded him with hesitation and awe. “You really think he would listen?”

“Only one way to find out.” He gave her one last smile and headed for the door. “Good night, Rogue.”

He almost didn’t hear her quiet response.

“Night, Logan.”

He shut the door behind him.

*

While those at Xavier Mansion slept, somewhere on the other side of the globe, deep in the Wakandan jungle, Storm stood holding hands with T’Challa in the silver twilight. “It is good that you have returned to us, T’Challa.”

T’Challa kissed Storm’s forehead. “It is good to be back, Ororo.”

The pair of them turned to admire the evening moon.

“Their war has grown bitter,” T’Challa said. “Heroes forget themselves. They forget what they fight for.”

“So I have heard,” Storm said gravely. “Captain America and Iron Man are at odds. Two friends, on opposing sides, and gaining forces.”

“They fight each other, Ororo. Friend against friend. Kinship is forgotten in the face of politics.”

“I am glad you walked away.”

T’Challa’s face was grim as he watched the sky. “I have forgiven them for the death of my father. They need to forgive each other, before it is too late.”

Storm followed his gaze. She remained silent for a long moment.

T’Challa turned his head. “You are not staying.”

“They need me,” she said. “Professor Xavier has been updating me on the war back home. Although the X-Men and their allies have remained neutral in the Civil War, we are still under attack. The government has crafted Sentinels which hunt us down and kill us daily. They were programmed to control the unruly, but something in their programming must have gone wrong. They target mutants without discrimination as to whether they are hostile, or merely attempting to defend themselves. Soon, I fear, it will escalate to the point where mutants will not be able to roam the streets without fearing for their life. I fear it may have already reached that point.”

T’Challa let this sink in. A breeze ruffled her beautiful white hair, flowing like silk on water. Her clothes seemed to float around her, gravity momentarily suspended. “I understand,” he said at last. “You must protect your family.”

She squeezed his hands between her own. “You are also my family.”

“And you are mine.” T’Challa kissed Storm on her beautiful mouth. His goddess of a wife kissed back with all the gentleness of a summer day. “Go to them.”

“I will leave tomorrow morning.” Storm traced the side of his face with one long, streamlined finger. “Tonight is all for you.”

T’Challa cradled her face in both hands and drew her into a passionate kiss.

*

Johnny couldn’t shake a feeling of unease as he followed Cyclops and Jean Grey through the streets of New York. Something about the entire city was off. The buildings felt like they were looming, almost like they were watching him, and they disapproved of what they saw. The whole team was in full costume, a bubble of bright colors in the otherwise black-and-gray urban landscape. Perhaps that was why they were drawing so many dirty looks.

“Is it just me,” Johnny said, “or does everyone seem to hate us?”

“Superheroes aren’t exactly popular right now,” Cyclops answered.

Johnny watched another frowning civilian walk past. “I’m more used to flirting and saying ‘You’re welcome, it was nothing!’ a lot.”

“Well, get used to it, kid,” Wolverine said from behind him. “We’ve all got targets painted on us now. May as well wear shirts that say ‘I Kill Humans.’”

“But we don’t!”

“Bogey at ten o’clock,” Jean Grey said, with one finger to her temple.

“Stand ready,” Cyclops said.

Everyone took up a battle stance. The group stood with their fists up, weapons ready, backs protected by their tight circle, most of them faced towards the oncoming threat.

Something small flew into the side of a building and took out a chunk of brick when it exploded on impact.

“What the shit, man?!” shouted a guy in a red leather coat, skidding to a stop in the intersection. “You could’ve _killed_ someone!”

“You moved!” shouted a raccoon with a jetpack.

“Aim better next time! _Jeez!”_

“I will!” The raccoon produced a large gun and aimed it towards the guy in the leather coat.

The guy held up both hands in surrender. “Hey! I was kidding!!”

“Surrender, or I’ll shoot!”

“Come on, man!” The guy in the red leather coat stomped his foot, pouting. “Are we _really_ doing this?”

“Tony is paying me a _fuckload_ of money, so hell yeah, I’m doing this.”

“But Captain _America_ , man! You don’t go against Captain _America!”_

“I don’t give a shit about America, nor no other country.” The raccoon cocked his gun. “All I care about’s money. And Tony Stark is _loaded._ ”

The guy in the red leather coat cursed. He whipped out a gun and trained it on the raccoon. “Don’t make me shoot. I _will_ shoot.”

“You have ‘till the count of three. One… Two…” The raccoon stared down the scope of his gun. He pulled a face, like he didn’t really want to do this, but he was steeling himself for it anyway. “…Two-and-a-half…”

The man’s hands shook. “I’m serious, Rocket! I will shoot you!”

“…Two-and-three-quarters…”

The guy in the red leather jacket cocked his gun. It almost looked like there were tears in his eyes.

_‘MUTANT DETECTED’_ announced a deep robotic voice.

“Shit!” Cyclops cursed, swiveling to face the approaching Sentinel.

“What the fuzzy spaceballs is _that?”_ wondered the guy in the red leather jacket.

“I don’t know, but it’s going _down,_ ” answered the raccoon with the jet pack. He grabbed a grenade from his belt, pulled out the pin, and threw it at the robot before any of the X-Men had a chance to react.

“Move!” Cyclops urged. They darted out of the Sentinel’s way just in time; the grenade collided with its knee. The Sentinel glanced down in confusion. The grenade sat on the ground for a moment, harmless as a pebble.

“Ha!” said the raccoon. “Made ya look.”

The Sentinel swiveled its large robotic head towards the X-Men. It took one step towards them, and the grenade exploded.

Pavement scattered everywhere in chunks, blown twenty feet high. The Sentinel stumbled backwards into a building. There was a sickening crunch where its back collided with several windows, which shattered upon impact. Someone screamed.

The raccoon with the jetpack was laughing.

Cyclops readied his team. The Sentinel recovered its balance. _‘MUTANT DETECTED.’_ It stepped around the smoldering crater towards the X-Men. Cyclops shot a red eye-beam at its forehead. The Sentinel continued advancing on them.

“They’ve upped the defense mechanism!” Cyclops observed. “It’s absorbing my beam!”

“Let me try.” Jean Grey held two fingers to each side of her forehead. Chunks of ground levitated upwards, arranged themselves in an arc, and all at once, they crashed into the Sentinel. They did little more than dent its armor.

Something exploded near the Sentinel’s feet. The Sentinel stumbled backwards. Its eyes turned red. _‘MUTANT DETECTED. THREAT LEVEL: HOSTILE. DESTROY.’_

“Shit!” Johnny ducked out of the way of a falling chunk of asphalt.

The raccoon was laughing again. “You want more’a that?” he shouted. He lobbed another explosive towards the Sentinel.

“What the hell _is_ that thing?!” the man in the red leather coat asked no one in particular.

_‘DESTROY.’_

The Sentinel shot a beam of energy towards the X-Men which Jean Grey just barely managed to block in time. The beam bounced off of her shield and towards the weakened spot in the ground, which burst open and crumbled, revealing a cavern below. Several dozen pairs of eyes stared up at them in fear.

_‘Mutant detected’_ joined a second robotic voice, a few blocks away.

_‘mutant detected’_ echoed another voice, and another, and another.

“Shit,” Wolverine cursed.

“RUN!” urged a tall woman with fingers like talons. Her skin appeared to be some sort of scaly armor.

_‘Mutant Detected’_

The nearest Sentinel turned its attention on the hole in the ground, where a crowd of mutants with very visible physical abnormalities were milling about, some fleeing, some preparing to fight back.

_‘DESTROY.’_

_‘Mutant Detected. Must Destroy.’_

_‘mutant detected’_

“Now look what you’ve done!” the man in the red leather coat accused Rocket the raccoon.

“Uh,” Johnny said, “Cyclops? There’s five of them…”

Four Sentinels were advancing on them, all from different directions. They were all repeating their refrain _‘mutant detected’_ and as each one got within a one-block radius, their eyes turned red.

“Hit ‘em with all you’ve got!” Cyclops ordered.

From there, it was chaos. The mutants from underground poured out of the crater and assailed the Sentinels with their various powers. The X-Men were split into teams of one or two, fighting whatever Sentinel was closest. The man with the red leather coat was fighting the Sentinels and the raccoon, who was cackling and shooting not only at the Sentinels, but at the man’s feet, making him dance, catching him off-guard seemingly just for the fun of it, and only occasionally throwing a well-aimed grenade where it was needed. Mostly, those two seemed to be getting in the way, more than anything.

Everyone fought hard. The Sentinels were slashed, shot at, melted, pelted with inanimate objects, subjected to gunshot and explosions and energy beams, and one by one, they began to fall to the pavement. The first one’s eyes dimmed like a lightbulb powering down.

This turned the tide. Morale lifted. The X-Men fought harder. Johnny was getting a cheerful high from melting the Sentinels’ feet to the pavement, or frying random parts of their circuitry. The only thing that stopped him from cooking them entirely was the melee of the battlefield, always having to duck or dodge out of the way of this or that. But they were clearly winning.

Wolverine fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the Morlocks. Many of them had been wounded and lay, bleeding and disfigured, on the ground. Each wound only made him angrier.

A beam from one of the Sentinels nearly hit the woman with the large talons for fingers. “Yuriko!” Wolverine shouted, pushing her out of the way. They tumbled to the ground. He managed to push her out of the way of the beam, but she was caught in the crossfire. A chunk of pavement knocked her unconscious. Blood flowed from her forehead.

“Yuriko!” he shouted, cradling her unconscious form.

The battle raged on around them, one Sentinel falling, then another. Victory was in sight. The toll of the injured was high, but Jean Grey had felt no deaths. She considered that a victory in and of itself. The Sentinels fought hard, and there were many close calls, but eventually, they all fell.

“Okay, seriously.” The raccoon cocked his gun once more and pointed it towards the man in the red leather jacket. “Come with me, or I’m shooting you.”

“Rocket,” he reprimanded. “Can’t we just agree to disagree? Come on, man! I thought we were friends!”

“Yeah.” The raccoon seemed hesitant, but he did put the safety on his gun and shove it back into his over-the-shoulder holster. “I ain’t gonna kill ya.”

The guy in the red leather jacket looked like he might cry again. “That’s what I thought. Buddy.”

“Don’t get sappy on me,” the raccoon warned, but there was no venom to it.

“I will hug you in your sleep,” the man in the red leather jacket said as though it were meant as a threat.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll do it!” the man warned.

“Groot!” the raccoon shouted. He looked around. “Where’d that damn tree go...”

“Yuriko,” Wolverine mourned, trying to stem the bleeding. An elderly mutant with a huge hump in her back approached them and laid a calming hand on Wolverine’s shoulder. This only seemed to enrage him. He dropped Yuriko, left her to the care of the elderly mutant, and snarled at the raccoon, whose back was turned as he surveyed the city contemplatively. “That’s it,” Wolverine growled.

Cyclops held out a cautious arm, as though he could stop Wolverine’s claws with his flimsy flesh. “Don’t,” Cyclops warned.

Wolverine glared at the raccoon, then at Cyclops. He held up his claws as a warning. Cyclops lowered his arm and stepped back.

“Where are you going?” Jean Grey called after Wolverine as he stalked away through the carnage.

“I’m joining Team Cap.”

“But Wolverine, we _need_ you!”

He paused. “You don’t need me. You never did.” The world seemed to narrow to just Wolverine and Jean Grey.

“Logan…”

“Forget it.” He resumed his pace. “I’m sick of this neutral crap! You wanna stop this, you’ve gotta go straight to the source of the problem.”

Jubilee made to follow after him, but Jean Grey held out her arm to stop her.

They all watched him leave.

*

The Morlocks had been living beneath the streets of New York for decades. Too unusual and deformed for the rest of the public to accept them, they had remained hidden while the prettier, more human-looking mutants had lived aboveground. These were the mutants that could never pass as human. Their mutant DNA was as obvious as the bones or the scales on their face, as irrefutable as their wings or tails or extra limbs. The public seemed to have slowly been moving towards acceptance of those who are different. It had seemed that perhaps, in the near future, there would come a decade when they could venture aboveground and live like the rest of the mutants, facing only occasional discrimination, but otherwise just as safe as any other human.

The destruction of their hideout blasted this dream to smithereens. Their home was destroyed. Half of them were severely injured, relying on the help of the X-Men, since they neither trusted nor were they welcome at most hospitals.

News of the Morlock plight made its way to the island of Genosha, where the already-angry Magneto had recently recovered one of his daughters from incarceration. She had been held for months in the basement of Xavier’s mansion, interrogated, shut off from the outside world. Her vibrant green hair had turned dull and shabby, her spirit bitter and dark. Magneto’s first impulse had been to lavish her with extravagant baths and expensive chocolates, but when he learned _why_ she had been imprisoned, she had been locked into her tower and kept under strict supervision. He loved his daughter’s power, her rebellious spirit, but she had done something reckless and wrong, and she needed to learn that every action has consequences.

Speaking of daughters doing something reckless, he could not have been more disappointed in the public’s opinion of his other daughter, Wanda. They did not understand her powers, and thus they feared her, mistreated her, blamed her for things she could not help. He could not be more angry with Tony Stark for his way of handling this ‘problem,’ by imprisoning his daughter and lying to her. He considered the events overseas to be beneath him; the concerns of whether super-powered individuals should register with the government paled in comparison to the plight of mutantkind. The destruction of the Morlocks’ home cemented this.

This is why Magneto was standing on his balcony in front of a camera, which projected his image and his words to the entire population of Genosha.

“The lesser-evolved humans do not understand us,” he continued. “They never have, and they never will. Humans have always feared those with more power, because they desire to have and control that power.

“These Sentinels they have created are testament to that fact. They wish to eradicate us.

“I urge you all to stay on this island. Here, alone, you are safe.”

A thunderous cheer rose up.

Magneto had taken great, and public, care to reinforce the protection around the island of Genosha. He had created an impenetrable fortress.

“Morlocks,” he continued, addressing his wider audience. His image, and his words, were being broadcast worldwide. “And mutants of any kind, hear my words: You are welcome here.”

Magneto had long anticipated war between the mutants and the lesser-evolved humans. It was his widely broadcast opinion that this war had already begun.

“If anyone bearing the X-gene seeks refuge, or understanding, or protection, the gates of Genosha are always open to you.”

His son had been badly injured in combat. His daughters had been locked up against their will. Hundreds of mutants were being killed or injured each day.

“And those of you who wish to fight,” he concluded, “I promise you: soon, you will see your day of retribution.”

The audience roared.

*

Professor X was far from happy to hear Magneto’s announcement. He wheeled angrily around his office, fuming. Hank looked on with concern.

“He has effectively declared _war_ on humankind!” the professor exclaimed.

“Perhaps he only meant it as a warning,” Hank offered.

The professor slammed his fist against the armrest on his wheelchair. “He meant it as a threat! He painted humankind as cruel and petty, as though they are _beneath_ us somehow, and he promised the day of retribution is coming!”

“With all due respect, Professor,” Scott said from his position near the doorway, “it seems like the war has already started.”

“He’s right,” Jean agreed, laying a hand on Scott’s arm. “The Sentinels are only growing more powerful, and with each upgrade, they grow less discerning of who is a threat.”

“ _Damn_ the Sentinels!” The professor slammed his fist again. “The public got scared, because we nearly destroyed the earth! What we should have done was reassure them, not _threaten_ them! He’s—he’s— beating them with the olive branch!”

“Professor,” Hank said, “perhaps he meant nothing by it. Perhaps he only meant to extend comfort and reassurance to those injured, those who have lost their homes…”

“But he didn’t stop there,” the professor said, head in his hands. “That was broadcast all over the world. Every world leader is going to see that, and I’m not the only one who will perceive it as a threat.”

The room fell silent. The air grew heavy.

They knew the professor was right.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hello?” Spider-man said through his mask. “I’m here to see The Human Torch.”

“You mean Johnny?” Jubilee asked, amused.

Spider-man jolted with surprise. “Yeah. Johnny. –You… _You know he’s The Human Torch?”_ he whispered theatrically.

Jubilee gave him a funny look. “I thought _everybody_ knew that.”

“Sorry, I—” Spider-man cut himself off and put a hand to his forehead. “Sometimes I forget Mr. Loud-Mouth isn’t into the whole Secret Identity thing.”

Jubilee shrugged. “We don’t have much use for it here. Everyone knows our faces anyway. What do you wanna see Johnny for?” she asked conversationally, letting him in.

“Uh.” Spider-man’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s… private business. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t bother me!” Jubilee sing-songed. “I’ll let him know you’re here. JOHNNY!”

Spider-man flinced at the sudden shout.

“WHAT!” came the distant, shouted response.

“WE HAVE A VISITOR HERE TO SEE YOU!”

Johnny’s annoyed huff was almost audible from the foyer. “COMING!” he shouted reluctantly. There was a series of crashing, skidding, and banging sounds. Someone said “Hey!” presumably because Johnny crashed into them, but Johnny didn’t stop or apologize. He skidded into the front room in his socks, coming to a dramatic stop in front of Jubilee and Spider-man. “Bug-brain!” He held out his arms and grinned.

“Flame-brain!” Spider-man said with less enthusiasm.

Johnny hugged Spider-man bro-style; a short embrace, followed by three pats. “What is _up_ , Spidey? Couldn’t get enough of me the other day?” He winked.

Spider-man rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Keep hitting on me Johnny, it won’t make me any less straight.”

“You know you love it.”

“Get off of me, you creep!” He pushed at Johnny, who was trying to hug him exaggeratedly and press their cheeks together. Johnny planted a loud smacking kiss on Spider-man’s cheek before backing away. Spider-man rubbed at his cheek in disgust. “You’re almost as bad as Deadpool,” he grumbled.

“Dude, Deadpool is _awesome!_ With those katanas and those mad-awesome ninja skills-” Johnny demonstrated with some enthusiastic, but very bad karate “-and that thing about chimichangas? Oh man, I would _love_ to hang out with that guy!”

Spider-man stared at him for a moment. “You two must never meet,” he said gravely.

“Afraid he’ll steal your best friend?”

“Trust me, Johnny. _No one_ wants to steal you.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I am _very_ lovable.”

“Yeah, sure, if you love the equivalent of a clingy Labrador puppy.”

“Who doesn’t love _puppies?”_ Johnny pointed out.

_“Clingy_ puppies,” Spider-man stressed.

“Whatever.” Johnny draped an arm around Spider-man’s shoulders and led him upstairs. “So what brings you to my new digs? Looking for an excuse to check out my new bedroom?”

“Who doesn’t love dirty socks and open video game cases!” Spider-man exclaimed with mock enthusiasm.

“Pfff. No one notices that when _I’m_ the one they’re in a bedroom with.”

“You got me there,” he said with deepened sarcasm.

Johnny snorted and smacked him on the shoulder. He yanked open the door. “Ben! I’m back!” he called.

“Go away!” Ben called back.

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben grumbled.

Johnny opened the door to his bedroom and led Spider-man in. Spider-man stood near the doorway, playing with his fingers and looking down. His shoulders were drawn up tight, turtle-style. Johnny plopped down on his bed, leaving plenty of room for his friend. He pulled his arms up behind his head and threaded his fingers together to provide a cushion for the back of his neck. “So why are you _really_ here, Spidey?”

Spider-man shuffled his foot. “I… need to talk to someone.”

Johnny gestured to the room at large. “Talk away.”

Spider-man took a deep breath, sighed slightly, and toed the carpet. He was quiet for so long that the anxiety in the room ratcheted up to a concentration that had Johnny fidgeting just for something to do.

“…Spidey?”

“There’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Okay…?”

Spider-man scratched the back of his head. He played with his fingers. He toed the floor. He sighed. “May as well get it over with,” he muttered. He reached for the hooks under the chin of his mask and slowly pulled it upward. He had it about halfway over his mouth before Johnny interrupted.

“Whoa! Whoa—you don’t have to do that. You told me why the whole secret identity thing is important. I get that. It’s okay.”

“The thing is,” Spider-man said, lifting it up slowly to uncover his nose, “you already know me.”

“Wait. What?”

Spider-man sighed and removed his mask the rest of the way. Nervous brown eyes stared at Johnny, seeing him perfectly despite the lack of glasses. His messy brown hair was matted from the mask. Spider-man smiled nervously.

Johnny squinted at him. “Uh.”

Spider-man rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” He reached into a pocket and produced a pair of glasses. As soon as he put them on, the penny dropped.

“HOLY SHIT!” Johnny shouted. _“Peter?!”_

“Shhh!” Peter hissed.

“Peter _Parker?!_ Wait, wait, wait— you mean both of my best friends were the _same guy_ this _whole time?!”_

Peter rolled his eyes again. “You didn’t really think there were _two_ nerdy idiots dumb enough to like you…?”

Johnny’s hand flew to his chest. “But… But I thought I had _two_ best friends! How could you _do_ this to me?!”

Peter scratched his forehead. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I wanted to test it on somebody before—ugh!”

Johnny frowned. “Before what?”

Peter toed the carpet. “You know how I’ve always thought Tony Stark was like, the coolest guy ever, but Captain America is an actual real-live living legend, and he’s awesome and strong and brave and-”

“-And you totally have a crush on him,” Johnny interrupted.

Peter’s cheeks pinkened. “I can admire a really good-looking guy and still be straight!”

“And have posters of him in your bedroom?”

“Johnny-”

“And get all geeked out every time he talks to you?”

“He’s my _hero,_ Johnny!”

“He’s _everyone’s_ hero. But you don’t see _me_ acting all fangirly over him.”

“Johnny, I _have a girlfriend!”_ Johnny went to interrupt again, but Peter held up a hand. “This is important. You know how this whole Civil War thing has them fighting against each other?”

“Who, Cap and Iron Man?”

“Yeah. –Well, they’ve both been trying to get me to join their team, and-”

“What?! That’s _awesome!_ Congrats!”

“It is _not_ awesome! It’s tearing me apart!!” Peter took a moment to gather himself. He lowered his voice to a more reasonable sound level. “If I’m being honest with myself, I agree more with Cap. But Tony offered to pay off all of my student debt; all I had to do was fight with him. And I thought, hey. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Probably just spar with a few people, try to stay on the right side of the law. Hero stuff. Well…” Peter ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “Now that superhero registration act is really close to being put into law. And Tony Stark wants me to be an example. An everyday guy, who leads a double-life as a superhero. He called me ‘all-American.’ He— he wants me to reveal my identity. On national television.”

Johnny stared at him for a long moment. “You’re not Team Cap?”

Peter glared at him. “Did you not listen to _anything_ I just said?”

“No, no, I did, but— he can’t make you do that! He can’t make you reveal you identity if you don’t want to.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, gaze askance. “I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do…”

“Then don’t!”

Peter bit his lip.

“What about Gwen?” Johnny pressed. “What about Aunt May?”

Peter pulled both hands over his face. “I know! I promised I’d protect them. I’ll protect them with my _life!_ But Johnny, I have so much riding on the line. If I don’t do this, Tony might pull my funding, and Aunt May has been so proud of how much money I’ve been bringing in lately, we’ve been eating so well, I don’t have to worry about spending money on college, I can finally take Gwen on all the dates I want to, buy her whatever she wants— it’s a lot to give up!”

“Okay,” Johnny said very seriously, “First of all, you _do_ know you’ve got a rich best friend, right? And second of all, is giving all that up _really_ worth the whole world finding out who you are?”

Peter groaned, slammed the back of his head against the wall, and pulled both hands over his face.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it,” Johnny said, being his ever-helpful self, “but you’ve really got to consider what you’d be giving up.”

“I _have_ been considering that! It’s _all_ I’ve been considering for the past week! I can’t eat! I can’t sleep! I’m really worried I’m gonna make the wrong decision and let everyone down!”

Johnny stood slowly and started approaching his friend. “Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks,” said the master of all advice, “Sometimes you gotta do what’s best for _you._ ”

Peter pulled his glasses away, wiped away his bloodshot eyes, and sniffled. “What if I don’t know what that is?”

“You’re a certified genius, Parker.” Johnny pulled Peter into a loose hug. “You’ll figure it out.”

Peter clung to Johnny’s shoulder and sobbed into it.

Johnny stood there and let him. Every so often, he would pat Peter awkwardly on the back. He felt very squirmy and uncomfortable, but he didn’t back away until Peter released him and pulled back to wipe his eyes.

“Anyway,” Peter sniffled. He cleared his throat. “What’s new with you?” He attempted a smile.

Johnny shrugged. “Well, my shoulder’s wet.”

“I know that, dumbass.”

Johnny stuck out his tongue at Peter.

“Have you talked to your boyfriend?”

Johnny went pale and wide-eyed like a guilty toddler struck by lightning.

Peter frowned with the air of a disappointed parent. “You haven’t called him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Johnny sputtered.

Peter raised his eyebrows so hard his forehead wrinkled. “Seriously?”

Johnny’s cheeks turned bright red. The nearby air heated. “He’s not! We haven’t talked in like four months! He’s probably forgotten all about me and moved on!”

“Johnny,” Peter groaned, “You are going to be the reason for my first gray hair.”

“But he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Oh for the love of—Give me your phone.”

“No!” Johnny backed away, attempting badly to shield himself with his hands.

“Give me your phone.”

“No!” Johnny said with more force as Peter advanced upon him.

“Johnny,” Peter warned.

“I don’t have it!” Johnny lied.

Peter held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

“Really!” Johnny lied. “It’s in my other pants! On my dresser!”

Peter distracted Johnny with one hand, wiggling fingers, and webbed it out of his pocket with the other hand.

“Hey!” Johnny lunged after him. “That’s not fair!”

Peter backed away farther and farther, let himself out the door, and sprinted down the hallway.

“GIVE ME BACK MY PHONE!!” Johnny bellowed, flying after him.

Peter webbed the high ceiling of the Xavier Mansion front room and pulled himself up to the ceiling. He held the phone up to his ear.

“Don’t you _dare!”_ Johnny hovered in the center of the room, trying to figure out how to get into Peter’s corner without burning the mansion down.

Peter stared at him gleefully. A quiet dial tone echoed through the cavernous room.

“Peter, I swear to fucking God-”

“Hello?” Peter said. Johnny’s heart leapt to his throat. “Hi,” Peter said casually and with great glee, “is this Remy LeBeau? –It _is?”_

“You fucking asshole-!” Johnny’s heat intensified. The room filled with the scent of singed paint. Brown burnt spots formed on the ceiling.

Peter covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, “I got his voicemail.” He held the phone back up to his ear. “ _Hi_ Mister LeBeau! This is Johnny’s friend, calling from Johnny’s phone. You remember Johnny Storm, right? Obnoxious, loudmouth, spontaneously combusts on a regular basis? Yeah. Well, he won’t shut _up_ about you, and he’s been an _idiot_ not calling you because he talks about you _all the time_ and it is driving me up a _wall._ ” Peter laughed at his own joke and moved further out of Johnny’s reach. The singe spots on the ceiling intensified. “-Anyway. This is me letting you know that Johnny Storm is still completely in love with you, so if you could call him back, that would be _great._ Toodles!” He hung up.

“I,” Johnny said, turning the ceiling black, “am going to _kill you!”_

“What’s going on in here?” Storm’s imperious voice rang out.

“Storm!” Johnny said with great relief, descending to the floor and dousing his flame, “Peter stole my cell phone and he won’t give it back!”

“Peter,” Storm said with the air of a slightly amused mother, “give Johnny his phone back.”

“Sure thing ma’am!” Peter lowered himself down to the floor and handed Johnny his phone, grinning ear to ear.

Storm doused the ceiling with a particularly wet cloud. “That’s going to leave a mark,” she observed.

Johnny shuffled guiltily.

Storm arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to have to clean that up.”

“Aw, Storm-!” he whined.

“With a bucket,” she said, “and a ladder.”

Johnny groaned.

“And once it’s clean,” she concluded, “we’ll see about getting it re-painted.”

Peter grinned victoriously. “Welp,” he said, pulling his mask back on, “Gotta go!”

_“You,”_ Storm admonished, “are going to help him.”

Spider-man’s shoulders slumped. “Aww.”

*

Far away, in the city of New Orleans, somewhere on a ledge, a hot pink phone vibrated repeatedly, playing the Kim Possible theme. An unknown number displayed across the screen. The cell phone vibrated again and again, rotating slightly on the stone ledge.

Beyond the ledge, vaulting from building to building with a bo-staff in-hand, the owner of this phone singlehandedly took on a gigantic purple-and-silver robot. A glowing pink rectangle lodged between the plates of the robot’s shoulder and exploded, taking the robot’s arm off. The robot let out what almost sounded like an angry shriek. It swiped at the man with the bo-staff with its remaining arm. The man dodged skillfully out of the way.

The Kim Possible theme concluded its fourth repeat. The phone stopped vibrating.

A well-aimed pink glowing rectangle exploded, taking out the giant robot’s legs. The robot fell to the ground. The man landed nearby, his bo-staff striking the ground and helping to absorb its owner’s weight. The man with the bo-staff uncurled from his landing stance and stood. He jammed his bo-staff into the robot’s eye. Electricity crackled, crawling up the staff and sparking out in all directions. Slowly, the robot’s eyes dimmed until there was no life left in its body.

The phone buzzed and made an electronic beeping sound.

1 New Voicemail

*

Wolverine found Cap’s secret hideout by tracking him. His contact got him most of the way there; she had a vague idea of where Cap might be. From there it was just a matter of smell. He arrived in the middle of the night, on a motorcycle. Deafening silence followed the deadening of the engine; the country air was still and cool. A few brave crickets started back up again.

Wolverine marched straight up to the door and knocked. An unfamiliar pair of green eyes peered out the door in surprise. The owner of said green eyes backed hastily away from the door, had a hushed conversation with someone else, the gist of which seemed to be ‘I don’t know what to do,’ and a moment later, a man’s voice, pitched deep in an attempt to sound intimidating, asked “Who goes there?”

“Cut the crap,” Wolverine answered. “I’m here to join.”

The man with the green eyes flinched and cast a glance over his shoulder. “Uh,” he said in his deepened voice, “One moment please.”

There was another hushed conversation.

Wolverine crossed his arms and waited.

“Come in with your hands up,” the man with the green eyes ordered. He was aiming some sort of gun at Wolverine’s chest. He seemed very nervous; the gun trembled in his hands.

Wolverine cocked an eyebrow and raised his arms. He stepped inside.

“Oh shit,” Clint Barton said, dropping his hand of cards on the table. “Wolverine?!”

“Like I said,” Wolverine repeated, “I’m here to join.”

“You stay here.” Clint Barton stood. “I’ll go get Cap.”

The man with the green eyes shifted nervously, gun still pointed at Wolverine, seeming very uncertain of what to do. He wore an odd motorcycle outfit, mostly burgundy-red and silver. He looked fairly young. But then, most people looked young to Wolverine.

“Scott,” Captain America ordered gently, “put down the gun. He’s a friend.”

The man with the green eyes gulped and fumbled to put away his gun.

Captain America placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Comfort and solidity rolled off of him in waves, setting the man almost immediately at ease. Cap focused his attention on Wolverine. “Clint says you’re here to join.”

“You heard the news?”

Cap shook his head slightly.

Wolverine’s expression turned grim and angry. “Tony Stark hired new help, a sentient raccoon. Calls himself Rocket. We were downtown today fighting off a Sentinel when Rocket went trigger-happy. Blew a huge hole in the ground. Destroyed the home of the Morlocks.”

Cap’s jaw set. “I’m sorry,” he said gravely.

“The Professor is set on staying neutral in this whole Civil War thing, but I’m sick of this bullshit. Mutants are _dying._ I don’t give a shit about the registration act; my name has been out there for decades. So’s yours. But so far, government regulation have gotten us nothing but fear, death, and a bad name. Seems you’re fighting against that.”

Captain America stepped forward, releasing Scott. “We all have our reasons for being here. And I’m sorry to hear the mutant plight has gotten so bad. We’ll do what we can,” Cap promised.

“Good to hear.”

They shook hands. Wolverine immediately trusted that he’d made the right decision.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Captain America said. “Settle in. We have work to do in the morning.”

Wolverine nodded. He set about familiarizing himself with the place. He strolled from room to room, memorizing key things like exits and sinks and light sources. Eventually, he made his way back to the room where Clint and Scott were bent over a table, staring intensely at the cards in their hands. An array of cards were laid out on the table between them. Scott gave Clint an intense look, licked his lips, then took a deep breath and asked, “Do you have any fours?”

Clint’s lips ticked up on one side. “Go fish.”

“Gentlemen,” Wolverine said, causing them both to jump. “Is it frowned upon to go outside?”

Clint and Scott exchanged a glance. They both shook their head ‘no.’

“Good.” He headed for the door. “I could use a smoke.”

The sliver of the silver moon was crisp and clear in the cold country sky, adorned by stars. Wolverine fished in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, stuck it between his lips, and flicked open his lighter. He held the small flame to the tip of his cigarette until it burned orange. He took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. Tobacco burned in his lungs for a moment before they healed themselves. Wolverine wishes he could remember a time when smoking could actually hurt him.

His ears pricked at the sound of someone softly approaching him across the gravel driveway. “I thought that might be your motorcycle,” she said.

“Susan,” he said with a smile, still watching the moon.

“Wolverine,” she replied, sidling up next to him and leaning against the side of the building.

“Logan,” he corrected. He shifted closer, until he could almost feel the heat from her shoulder. The scent of her vanilla bath soap and her oat-and-honey shampoo blended beautifully with that slight hint of classic perfume she always wore, Chanel No. 5. On her, it smelled subtle, clean, and floral. It was the kind of scent that crept up your nostrils and tugged at your lungs, begging you to hold her close.

“Logan,” she repeated apologetically. “Please park your bike in the garage. We don’t want anyone to realize we’re here.”

“Didn’t know we _had_ a garage.” Logan blew a plume of smoke towards the moon.

“Well, we do.”

He glanced over at her. Susan’s eyes were on the stars. He admired how the soft silver starlight illuminated her face and her hair, giving her a translucent, almost magical quality. He returned his gaze to the moon the second her gaze shifted towards him.

“I heard about the Morlocks,” Susan said.

“I heard about your marriage,” he returned.

Susan let the comment fall. “It’s terrible,” she continued, “the way the government is hunting you down. I wish we’d known about the Sentinel project while we were overseas; Reed knows people in high places.”

“You were busy saving the world.”

“I still feel like I could have done more to save the people back home.”

He shrugged. “You did whatcha could.”

A cool breeze blew. She shifted closer, sharing the warmth given off by his arm. “It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“That’s the thing about being a hero,” he said, pausing to take another drag. He blew it out. “Your job is never done.”

They stood peaceably next to each other in the starlight, each searching for constellations of their own. Logan thought the way Susan’s hair cascaded down her shoulders might rival the Milky Way. Before, the air had smelled of pine and grass and soil. Now, it smelled only of her.

“How has everyone been,” Susan asked, “since I’ve been gone?”

“Eh. Nothing major has happened.” Logan stubbed out his cigarette butt under his boot. “Only thing of interest to you might be that Gambit went missing.”

Susan frowned in concern. “Missing?”

“Yeah. Heard there were Sentinels in New Orleans, headed south to fight them himself. He fancies himself kind of a Knight in Shining Armor sometimes,” he added with fond disdain.

“Has he been hurt?”

He gave her a look. “Not that we know. But he hasn’t been answering his phone. –Why? You haven’t gone and gotten a crush on him, too, have you?”

Susan made a face. “I’m only concerned about Johnny.” As soon as the words were out, a heaviness seemed to settle around her. Her expression harbored years of pain and concern, and likely her mind had wandered to whatever was really bothering her.

“He’ll be all right,” Logan reassured her. He touched her arm. She met his eyes. Her amethyst-blue eyes glittered with worry. Logan offered her a half-smile. “The Cajun disappears sometimes. He’ll be back.”

This did not seem to comfort her. He encompassed her upper arm in his large, warm hand. Her eyes tracked down to the point of contact. Her expression smoothed.

“Shall we head back inside?” he offered.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a minute,” she said. “Thank you.”

Logan accepted this with a slight pang of disappointment. He rubbed his thumb across her bicep and hovered there for a moment, uncertain whether to draw her close.

He released her arm. “See you tomorrow.” He stepped back.

“See you,” she said, her eyes on the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a firm believer in bisexual Spider-man. This version of him *thinks* he's straight, but Johnny is right. Peter totally has a crush on Captain America.


	5. Chapter 5

Because of her invisibility, Susan had been designated their official scout. Whenever someone needed to run an errand or a secret rendezvous, Susan was called upon to use her powers. Because using them took a toll on her, she was consuming an unusual amount of chocolate. Captain America was generous enough to pay for her caloric needs; he was certainly no stranger to large amounts of calories. Bucky needed to eat a lot, too. They all did.

Grocery runs weren’t the most glamorous thing in the world, but when Susan braided her hair, put on a sun hat, a sundress, and a pair of purple teardrop sunglasses, courtesy Clint Barton, she was virtually unrecognizable. She only purchased small amounts at a time, so no one batted an eye that she paid with cash.

While she was in line for the checkout, her phone buzzed. She reached into her purse- an old leather one that had gone out of style years ago- and pulled out her phone. She had one text from an unlisted number, labeled only ‘Unknown’. She edged forward in line and swiped open her message.

It was a jumble of letters and numbers.

Susan smiled.

*

A woman with honey-blonde hair stood on a wooden bridge, her hands braced on the railing. She was watching the swans below with an expression that was dreamy on the surface, but upon second glance, bore a sharp, calculating edge. She turned her head the moment she heard Susan step foot onto the bridge. “You’re late,” she said.

“Had to pay for my groceries,” Susan replied. She came to a stop inches from Sharon. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Give me your phone.” Sharon reached out her hand, palm up.

Susan handed her the phone without question.

Sharon chucked the StarkPhone into the river. She pulled a Nokia flip-phone out of her pocket and handed it to Susan. “I pulled up your Verizon file,” she said. “And disabled the tracking device. I also imported your contacts. This phone doesn’t have GPS, but it does have internet. However, it costs a dollar a minute, and those charges will be forwarded to me, so use sparingly. And I’d avoid Google maps.”

Susan examined the ancient, slightly scratched Nokia. It showed the time, roughly twelve minutes off, displayed in black digital numbers on a gray background through the tiny screen on the front. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this. She’d really liked that StarkPhone. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and let Clint know that he needs to stop playing games on his cell phone,” Sharon added. “Those use a location tracker. You guys should probably move.”

Susan nodded. She felt a little dizzy.

Sharon clasped Susan on the shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

Susan was staring into the distance, a little bit down. Sharon’s motion brought her collarbone straight into Susan’s unfocused sightline. Susan absently noted that Sharon’s collarbone was smooth and defined, her white blouse unbuttoned enough to show a hint of cleavage, and a thin silver necklace lay against her chest. A silver-and-diamond pendant hung from it, long and thin and simple. Sharon smelled slightly of peaches.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Sharon said, gently gripping Susan’s shoulders, “and I don’t blame you if you want to back out. No one does. But I need to know if you’re okay.”

Susan regained her senses. Sharon’s green-and-gold hazel eyes were near enough, Susan could almost make out the individual fibers in her irises. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

Sharon examined her, shrewd and businesslike and warm and comforting all at once. “Good,” she said at last, releasing Susan’s shoulders. “-Seriously, though. About Clint’s gaming.”

“I’ll tell him.” Susan still felt a little dizzy.

“I’ll count on it.” Sharon smiled.

Susan smiled back.

And there, on that bridge, in the sunlight, Susan remembered all the people she’d looked at besides Reed. She remembered admiring all the different kinds of beauty, even though she’d promised herself that her heart would always belong to him. She remembered the attractions she had refused to acknowledge, every fleeting glance, every blush, every smile, and the guilt that always came after.

“If you need any help,” Sharon concluded, “you have my number.”

Susan’s grip tightened on the phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sharon gave her one last smile, turned, and walked away.

Susan stood in the warm sunlight, soaked through with a brand-new feeling, her heart beating in tandem with the thunk of Sharon’s heels against the sun-warmed bridge, admiring the bounce of her honey-gold waves against her crisp white blouse as her figure slowly shrank into the distance.

And it hit her, as Sharon rounded a curve in the path, and disappeared out of sight, that for the first time in her life… Susan was _free._

*

Although Ben Grimm was living at Xavier Mansion and had been invited on patrol several times, he was of the firm opinion that he needed a vacation. It was tempting to take a plane straight to the Florida Keys, get on a cruise, dip his toes in the Caribbean and sip a daiquiri on the beach, but his conscience kept him in New York.

Ben had taken several lovely strolls around Central Park and the nicer neighborhoods, quiet ones with white picket fences and kids playing out in the yard, riding plastic big-wheel bikes and toting Playschool wagons, places where the ice cream truck merrily tittered The Entertainer on infinite repeat and the nice suburban moms were all out gardening or pushing their kids on the swingset, but there was no escaping the troubles that swept New York.

He was strolling through one of these suburban neighborhoods in a yellow-and-aquamarine Hawaiian-print shirt and flip flops, licking a pistachio ice cream cone, when he heard a sound that would’ve raised the hairs on the back of his neck, if he had any. Ben turned around, ice cream cone in-hand, and faced whatever was causing the huge, looming shadow on the sidewalk.

_‘Mutant Detected’_ declared the monolithic purple-and-silver robot with the red glowing eyes.

A girl who must’ve barely hit puberty froze on her front lawn, eyes wide. She had a bubble wand in her hand. Her little sister frowned up at her and asked petulantly “Why’d you stop?”

The robot raised its arm and aimed at the little girl.

“Oh for the love of-” Ben tossed the rest of his ice cream cone in his mouth and launched himself towards the giant robot. The energy beam it had been shooting was knocked off-course; it shot a crescent-shaped hole through the roof of a nearby house. Several birds flew away, squawking in fear.

Ben grappled with the robot, crushing its arms like tin cans.

The little girls screamed and ran inside.

_‘Mutant Detected’_ the robot repeated, struggling to break free. It turned its glowing red eyes on Ben.

“What the fuck are you?” Ben wondered aloud.

_‘Mutant Detected’_ it repeated again.

“Guess you’re not gonna answer me.” Ben broke out of its hold and smashed its head in. The robot fell, limp, to the sidewalk. “Probably too dumb.”

“You! Hey! You there!” shouted an angry man across the street.

“Oh boy,” Ben said to himself, rolling his eyes, “here we go.”

“Yes, you!” the man clarified. “How are you gonna pay for that tree?”

“Tree, what tree?” Ben wondered aloud, frowning. He turned and saw that the robot had snapped a small tree in half on its way down. “You mean this little thing?”

“That tree was city property!” the man shouted, pointing a finger.

“Jeez, sorry, buddy. Was more concerned about the giant robot.”

“You muties are a blight on the face of mankind!” the man spat with fervor. “I’ll call the cops about this!”

“Go for it!” Ben said. He nudged the robot with his foot. “Let ‘em know they’ve got a clean-up on aisle three.” Ben turned around and set about walking back the way he’d come.

“Don’t think I won’t!” the man shouted after him. “I’ll let him know _all_ about how I saw you damaging public property and terrorizing a private civilian neighborhood!”

Ben rolled his eyes, shook his head, and kept walking. He’d barely had two licks of that ice cream cone. He was gonna buy another one, and eat it one bite at a time, like Ben & Jerry intended.

*

Reed Richards was having the day from Hell. Tony had managed to recruit two new members to his team, each of which was morally questionable at best, and completely untrustworthy if Reed was being honest. Reed had been forced to give an official statement regarding his support of the superhero registration act and his reasons why others should support it as well, and the whole speech had given him a headache. He believed in consistency and order, in being reliable and trustworthy and obeying the law, and it was his firm standing that if this act became law, he would be behind it one hundred percent. But although he agreed with the initial premise behind Tony’s team, he was not so certain anymore of the extent to which he agreed with Tony.

They had almost discovered Captain America’s hideout, thanks to triangulation on a signal from a cell phone that was playing, on average, three hours of Angry Birds per day, but when they arrived at the countryhouse in the middle of nowhere, all they found was an abandoned building with droplets of water in the sink. Not a trace had been left behind, if the team had ever been there in the first place. Tony had been so enraged, he’d blasted a nearby tree into a charcoal stub. Reed had taken a step back; the whole thing was starting to feel like a witchhunt.

Reed very much needed leftover mashed potatoes and a tall glass of unsweetened iced tea.

Tony had invited him to stay at Stark Tower, had shown him the various amenities, but when a man came home from a hard day at work, what he really wanted was comfort. Reed had elected to stay at the Baxter Building, the old Fantastic Four HQ. He had to correct himself in his head as he rolled up the driveway; it wasn’t his team’s HQ anymore. He didn’t _have_ a team.

Reed hung up the keys to his Rolls-Royce and kicked off his polished brown shoes. He turned to head to the kitchen, but something made him stop. Something in the air had shifted.

Something wasn’t right.

Reed cautiously scanned his living room. Senses on full alert, he slowly approached the dining room.

“Mister Fantastic,” greeted a voice that nearly made Reed jump out of his skin, “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

A man with an eyepatch was sitting at his table, feet propped up like he owned the place. He was dressed all in gray and charcoal, and wearing a charcoal-gray beanie. He sipped casually from his Arby’s cup, watching Reed.

“No,” Reed said, “I don’t think we have.” He tried to subtly check for any other intruders while keeping one eye on the man with the eye patch.

“You can relax,” he said. “I came alone.” The man extended his hand. “Nick Fury.”

Reed shook his hand before the name sank in. “Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Former,” he said. “You could say I’m retired now.”

“…What do you want with me?”

“Do you recognize this?” Fury produced a black collar from his jacket pocket.

Reed paled. “Where did you get that?”

“A woman sold it to me. Thought she could get ‘diplomatic immunity.’ Of course, there is no such thing.” Fury leaned forward. “You know how it works?”

Reed swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then you know why she was able to sell this at a very high price.”

Reed’s mind raced. Professor X had promised he would take care of it. He had been searching for the collars while the Fantastic Four were in Europe, and Asia, and Africa, and Australia. The collars were still out there. Those people who had kidnapped him and tortured him and held him hostage—they were still out there, and they had a frightening amount of power.

“Mister Richards,” Fury said, switching positions so he was leaning his elbows against the table, “You engineered these collars so that they could cancel out both cosmic and mutant abilities. Given the current state of affairs, such a tool would be extremely valuable. You could be paid a _lot_ if you could figure out a way for this thing to cancel out _all_ superpowers.”

Fear clutched at Reed’s innards, cold and coiling. “You want me to give the government the ability to steal superpowers.”

“Should the need ever arise,” Fury corrected. “It _could_ save lives.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Think of it this way.” Fury stood. “There is a war going on, which is getting out of hand. There are superheroes fighting each other, ignoring crime, and causing a _lot_ of property damage in the process, with little-to-no regard of civilian safety and well-being. So you tell me whether this is overreacting.”

Reed stared at the collar. Terrible memories flooded back.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Fury set the collar in the center of Reed’s kitchen table. “Feel free to contact me if you change your mind.” He tucked a business card into Reed’s shirt pocket, offered him a shallow smile, and headed out the door. “Oh, and one more thing.”

Reed turned around.

“I understand that your wife has joined Team Cap. If you have any line of contact with her, we would greatly appreciate learning Cap’s location. As a matter of public safety.” Fury tipped his beanie, or tugged down the front part of it on one side, at least, offered Reed another dangerous shallow smile, and left.

Reed stared at his front door, his blood running cold.

*

“Oh man. Pizza rolls _and_ Swiss Rolls? You are my _hero!”_ Clint Barton crowed, hugging his groceries.

“Did you get my oranges?” Scott Lang worried, searching through several mismatched bags. Susan handed him the bag with the oranges. Scott whooped, opened the bag, and immediately started peeling an orange.

“Ginger ale,” Sam listed off, unpacking the groceries, “red delicious apples, chicken pot pie. Susan, this may be the best we have eaten in _months._ ”

“Just doing what I can to help,” she said modestly, undoing her braid.

“Seriously,” Sam said, examining a jar of half-sours, “I think this is the best grocery trip I’ve ever witnessed.”

Susan shrugged. She didn’t mind running errands, but it did make her feel like less of a hero than the rest of them. It felt a little like being a secretary- going on coffee runs, taking lunch orders, taking out the trash while the other guys did the important stuff.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Captain America was smiling down at her. “You’ve been a big help,” he assured her. “If it weren’t for you, we might not have made it out of our hideout in time.”

Susan smiled bashfully. “Sharon would have warned you somehow.”

“Eventually,” Cap agreed.

“Where’s the oatmeal cream pies?” Bucky asked, hovering behind Sam and peering at the counter.

“Here ya go!” Clint tossed him the box.

“Did Sharon say anything else?” Cap asked quietly, watching his team with a mixture of fondness and the palpable desire to protect them.

“No.”

Clint was devouring his second Swiss Roll and rinsing it down with Squirt. Bucky was carefully working open the packaging on an oatmeal cream pie. Scott had finished eating his orange and was scouting for the bag of potato chips. Wanda was quietly eating almonds in a corner. Clint tossed her a bottle of juice. She caught it with a glowing red energy beam from her hand and brought it closer. Sam neatly organized the groceries and started folding the bags.

“Is there anything you want me to ask her?” Susan said quietly, turning her head.

Cap glanced at her. His gaze returned, as it always did, to Bucky. “No.”

“Hey,” Wolverine greeted, stepping in the front door. “Am I missin’ the party?”

“Dude. She bought _beer,_ ” Clint marveled.

“I’ll take one of those.” Wolverine stepped past Susan to grab a beer. His arm brushed hers as he passed. Heat prickled there. He popped open the cap and glanced at her while he gulped it down.

Susan pretended not to notice. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked the Captain.

“You’ve done enough for today.” He grasped her shoulder and smiled at her. “Take the evening off.”

Susan stepped out of the crowded kitchen and out the front door. The sky was filled with the gentle rosy oranges of sunset, everything around her bathed in golden light. A butterfly fluttered through the tall grass. She couldn’t tell if it was white or yellow.

A flock of birds flew overhead, black against the sky.

The air smelled warm and friendly, and for a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

“Susan,” Wolverine greeted. “Saw you walk out. Thought you might want this.” He held out a stack of bars of her favorite chocolate.

Susan held out her hands. She’d forgotten she’d bought that.

Their fingers brushed.

Susan ignored the tiny electric feeling. “Thank you, Logan.” She returned her attention to the cloudy sunset sky.

“Welcome.” He seemed in no hurry to go. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?”

She glanced at him just in time to see the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette. She quickly averted her gaze. “Not at all.”

Logan lit the cigarette, leaned against the side of the building, and blew a plume of smoke towards the sunset. “Noticed you took a lot of stuff with you,” he said. “You move out?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t want to talk about it.

Logan nodded. “I know how that goes.” He smoked beside her in silence for a long moment.

The oranges turned pinker until the sky was a map of rose, magenta, and violet. The air began to cool.

“You doin’ all right?” he asked softly.

Susan looked at Logan in the soft, rosy lighting. All of his features seemed warmer, gentler somehow. His flint-gray eyes seemed more of a friendly silver, bluer than she remembered. Although his lips were curled to allow room for the cigarette, she couldn’t help but notice their shape. She found herself gravitating closer.

“Susan?” Logan said, barely more than a breath. He let the remainder of his cigarette fall to the ground. He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving her face.

A ten-year-old default ringtone loudly blared from the vicinity of Susan’s waist. Susan flinched, grimaced, and took out the ancient Nokia. She recognized the number on the screen. She frowned.

Logan waited to see what she would do.

Susan let the phone ring. Once it was done ringing, she flipped it open, erased the notification, and turned down the volume.

“Someone ya know?” Logan guessed.

“Used to.” Susan pocketed the phone. She hoped Reed wouldn’t call again.

*

If Ben had needed a vacation before, he _definitely_ needed one now.

“Ah, Ben,” Professor X greeted. “Back from your vacation so soon?”

“Not much of a vacation, pal. Do you know anything about these giant robots?”

The professor frowned. “You came across a Sentinel?”

“I dunno ‘bout no Sentinels, but I had to beat up five giant robots today ‘cause they was aiming at _kids._ ”

The professor seemed alarmed. “They were aiming at _children?”_

“Yeah. Huge things show up outta nowhere, say ‘Mutant Detected,’ aim, and fire.”

“Oh dear. This is more serious than I thought,” the professor fretted. “Where were these Sentinels you defeated?”

“Prowlin’ around suburbia. Split a few trees in the process, bringin’ ‘em down.”

“They’ve spread to the suburbs,” the professor said to himself, fingers steepled, frowning deep, his pointer fingers almost touching his mouth.

“You wanna tell me what beef they have with children? ‘Cause they weren’t doin’ nothin’.”

“It may be that they are malfunctioning. Or, it may be that the Sentinels can now detect the X-gene, even in those whose powers have not yet manifested.” He pressed a button on his hover-chair. “Hank. I need to see you in my office immediately. It is a matter of utmost importance.”

*

Johnny wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead. _“Man_ , my arms are tired!”

“Ugh. You’re telling me.” Spider-man scrubbed at the last little spot of black on the ceiling.

“It’s your fault.”

_“You’re_ the genius that torched the ceiling!”

“Yeah but _you_ stole my cell phone!”

“Which I am _not_ sorry for.”

“Asshole.”

Spider-man threw a dirty sponge at Johnny. _“You’re_ the asshole!”

“Hey!” Johnny ducked. The ladder swayed. Johnny panicked and clung to it like a wet cat.

Spider-man cackled.

“Dude that’s not funny! I could have _died!”_

“From a wet sponge?”

“No. From falling off the _ladder.”_

Spider-man rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Oh please. You can _fly.”_

Johnny pouted at him. “Not if I’m caught off-guard!”

“Relax, flame-brain. I’d catch you if I thought you were really gonna fall.”

Johnny gave him big anime eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah really. I don’t hate you.” Spider-man lowered himself to the floor. He held the ladder as Johnny climbed down, even though he didn’t have to, since the ladder was balanced on its own.

“You’re the best,” Johnny said with undue affection.

Spider-man shook his head. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Aw, you love me.” Johnny pulled him into a half-Nelson and gave him a noogie through his mask. Spider-man squawked and tried to get away.

“Boys,” Storm said, looking up from her laptop, “That ceiling had better be spotless.”

“Spotless as an albino leopard,” Johnny promised.

“An albino leopard still has spots, genius. They’re just faded.”

“Not if it’s one of those black leopards!”

“Black leopards have spots, too, they’re just too dark to see!”

“Well ex _cuse_ me, Princess!”

“Johnny. That meme is like, fifteen years old.”

“Aw, it’s almost as old as you!”

“Johnny. We’re the same age.”

Storm stood over the bickering pair. “Albino or not, if I find one speck of dirt on that ceiling, you’re cleaning it.” She gave a pointed look to Johnny.

“Aw, why me!”

“Because you caused it.”

“Ha!” Spider-man said, victorious.

Johnny groaned.

Storm hovered up to the ceiling to inspect it.

“What do you say we run before she finds anything,” Spider-man whispered.

“On it,” Johnny whispered back. They darted out the front door.

Storm slowly lowered herself from the ceiling, smiling and shaking her head. The boys had done a lovely job. She would have the painters in tomorrow.

Johnny and Spider-man stopped on the sidewalk outside, panting. They shared a laugh.

Spider-man clasped Johnny on the shoulder. “Seriously though, it was great seeing you, man.”

“Can’t say the same for you. Jerk face.”

“Whatever.” Spider-man stared off into the distance. His thoughts turned serious. “…Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“…I have to tell Aunt May.”

Johnny frowned. “That I burned the ceiling?”

“No, that I’m…” He gestured to his face.

“Oh.” Johnny stared at him for a long moment. “…Are you sure?”

“If I can tell Aunt May,” Spider-man said, “I can tell anybody.”

“All right,” Johnny said doubtfully.

Spider-man wrapped a hand around Johnny’s shoulder. “Will you come with me?”

Johnny reeled with surprise. “Me?”

“I think it’d be easier with someone there.” Spider-man cleared his throat. “Someone who already knows.”

“Sure. Sure, man! I’ll go with you.”

“Great.” Spider-man hesitated for a moment, scared. He patted Johnny on the shoulder, fidgeted, and turned around. “Guess we better get this over with.”


	6. Chapter 6

Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so nervous for someone else. Peter had been his best friend since high school, and Aunt May had been the bedrock of Peter’s life for just as long. Telling Aunt May was a big deal. Neither of them was sure how she’d react. Peter hadn’t even told _Johnny_ about it until just now, even though Johnny had told Peter about his superpowers right away. But then, Johnny had always been transparent. Johnny had always loved showing off. He lived for the spotlight. He thrived on public attention.

Peter, not so much.

Aunt May looked expectantly at them when they walked in. “Yes?” she asked. She seemed wary, but a bit amused. Steeled for the worst, but not really expecting it.

“Aunt May,” Peter said, fidgeting. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hello, Peter,” Aunt May answered patiently. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Um.” Peter glanced at Johnny. “Aunt May, there’s…” He bit his lip. He bounced on his toes. He fidgeted. “…You might want to sit down.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Peter,” she said in measured tones. “It’s 2016. I’m certainly not going to judge.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

Aunt May sent a pointed glance to Johnny.

Johnny frowned in confusion.

Aunt May smiled and shook her head, chuckling. “Peter, you can date whoever you want. I don’t care if you’re gay.”

_“What?”_

Johnny leapt away from Peter. “Whoa!”

Aunt May’s smile faltered a little. “Isn’t that what this is about?”

“I’m not—! We’re not—! Ugh, with _Johnny?_ Never!”

“Hey! I am _very_ attractive, thank you very much!”

“Okay but I’m _straight._ ”

“What about that crush on Captain America?” Aunt May interjected.

Peter blushed. “That’s not-!”

“HA!” Johnny pointed a finger at him. “You _do_ have a crush on him!”

“I’m a really big fan!” Peter protested.

Aunt May chuckled. “Tell that to the kiss marks on his poster.”

“Aunt May!” Peter whined.

Johnny laughed uproariously. “Oh man! Oh man, this is the _greatest_ thing!”

“And what about that boy from school that you were always talking about? That Harry Osborn kid?”

“He was a _friend!”_ Peter objected.

“A very attractive friend.”

Peter gaped at Aunt May in horror.

“What? I’m old, not _blind.”_

Johnny was laughing so hard he was crying.

“What ever happened to him, I wonder,” Aunt May mused absently.

“He has a crush on Captain America!” Johnny managed between peals of laughter. “Oh man. Oh man, that is my new favorite thing!”

“Shut _up,_ Johnny!”

“You think Captain America is hot!”

“Have you _seen_ Captain America?” Peter argued.

Johnny waved a hand. “Eh.”

Peter gaped, offended. _“Eh?!”_

Johnny shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I guess if you’re into that square-jawed all-American goodness thing.”

"Oh right.  _You’re_ more into tall, smug, and Cajun.”

Johnny’s entire face glowed red.

“You know,” Aunt May said, “I always had a feeling about you.”

Johnny spluttered. “What?!”

“Yeah,” Peter said, warming to the subject. “Johnny got this elephantine crush on one of the X-Men. They dated for like two days, and he hasn’t stopped talking or texting about him since.”

“Well, does he like you back?”

“Stoooopppp!” Johnny moaned, covering his burning face with both hands.

“Johnny has a cru-ush,” Peter sing-songed.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! He probably doesn’t even _remember_ me!”

“Trust me, Johnny.” Peter patted him on the back. “You’re pretty hard to forget.” It sounded like an insult, but a fond one.

Johnny groaned loudly.

“Oh dear,” Aunt May said. “Well I certainly hope everything turns out all right between you two.”

Johnny’s flame dimmed.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’d probably all be _fine_ if you just _talked_ to him.”

Johnny groaned again.

Aunt May watched them with interest. Peter calmed Johnny down enough that he showed his face again. He didn’t seem very happy.

“Peter?” Aunt May said. “If that isn’t what you were going to tell me, then what was it?”

Johnny and Peter shared a meaningful glance.

Peter looked down. “…Nothing, Aunt May.” He gave her a sad smile. “Never mind.”

*

Wanda found Susan sitting on the old, shabby, over-stuffed couch. The fabric was scratchy pea-green, pilled with age, and it smelled like old people and stale cigarettes, but there was something oddly comforting about it, like the ones who left it behind had loved that couch, and loved each other.

Susan was wearing silk pajamas with little snowflakes on them, her hair was down, and she was hugging her knees, staring at a point in space somewhere across the room.

“Would you mind if I sit here?” Wanda asked.

Susan seemed surprised. “No. Go ahead.” She straightened, sniffled, and sat up straighter, making room for Wanda.

Wanda analyzed the waves Susan was giving off. She examined her solemnly, gauging what it was that Susan needed, but was not asking for. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m all right,” Susan brushed off, as though she did not want to be a burden.

“We have warm brownies,” Wanda informed her.

Susan’s eyes lit up, and her demeanor shifted just the slightest bit.

Wanda smiled. “Clint!”

“Yeah?” Clint poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Two more hot fudge sundaes.”

Clint opened his mouth to protest; Wanda nodded to Susan; Clint closed his mouth and ducked back into the kitchen. “Coming right up!”

Wanda shifted to face Susan more fully. “Would you like to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

Susan sniffled. Her hands were held tightly in her lap, knuckles white. “It’s…” She sighed. She turned away, drew her knees up again, and hugged them.

“Tell me,” Wanda urged. She began running her fingers through Susan’s hair.

Susan relaxed incrementally. Wanda’s fingers were slender and nimble, Susan’s hair woven from the finest silk.

“Two hot fudge sundaes.” Clint set them down on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Clint.” Wanda continued stroking Susan’s hair.

Susan turned her head. Wanda’s fingers paused.

Susan picked up one of the sundaes and set it in her lap.

Wanda took a bite of the other one and resumed playing with Susan’s hair. “You don’t have to talk,” Wanda said. “But if you need to, you can.”

Susan didn’t speak again until her sundae was gone. The food seemed to have eased her troubles, if only a little, the way food will. “It’s just,” Susan began, “I miss when times were simpler. I miss… when everything made sense, and I knew what I wanted, and I could still believe that everything was going to be okay.”

Wanda hummed and ran her fingers through Susan’s hair. “I never had that. You are lucky that you did.”

“Sorry.” She folded back in on herself, sadness settling about her like a cloak.

“I did not mean it that way,” Wanda assured, leaning closer and stroking Susan’s hair from root to tip, running her nails against Susan’s scalp. “Times were always troubled for me, and I suspect always will be. There is much about my past that I am not proud of. But I am sick of hearing about me. The whole world knows my mistakes. I want to hear about yours.”

Susan hugged herself, silent for a long moment. “I’m getting a divorce,” she said at last.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s… been a long time coming,” Susan admitted.

“There were troubles?”

The floodgates opened. “He never had time for me! Even when we were dating, he always put his work above everything else. I thought it was cute, he’s a scientist, look at how brilliant he is. I thought maybe if he loved me enough, he’d start putting me first. I thought, maybe if we got married, that would change things somehow. But Reed is a coward. I broke up with him years ago, and he never pursued me. He never tried to win me back. We met again purely by chance. Old feelings resurfaced, and the next thing I knew, we were engaged, and I thought I was happy. He’s a good man, he’s a nice guy.

“But it’s not enough. I thought I wanted boring, and stability, but it turns out I don’t. I’ve… had feelings for other people, on and off, the whole time I’ve been with Reed. And I always felt guilty about it, tried to push it away. But now… I should feel heartbroken. I should feel like I’ve really lost something. But instead it feels like I’ve shed this huge weight that I’ve been pulling around for so long I didn’t even know it was there. It feels like… finally, I can breathe.”

Wanda continued calmly stroking her hair. “You feel guilty about this,” she observed.

“Yes! I shouldn’t be feeling so many things for so many people! I should be in mourning! I should feel like I’ve just abandoned the center of my life, but all I feel is free!” Susan lowered her voice. “I haven’t felt anything for such a long time. It hit me, about half a year ago, when I saw Johnny falling in love with Remy—there were so many emotions in that room, and all I felt was numb. It was like I’d been dead inside and it took me too long to realize it.”

“And because you’ve had stability for so long,” Wanda surmised, “what you hunger for is the opposite.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Susan twisted around to look at her, exuberant, but still guilty for it. “How did you know?”

Wanda shrugged a shoulder. “Observation.”

Susan’s troubled expression had returned. “…What do I do now?”

Wanda smiled. “Whatever you want.”

The glow which this brought to Susan was warm and endearing. “What if what I want is bad for me?”

Wanda picked up the empty ice cream bowls. “We all must indulge from time to time.” She headed to the kitchen and let Susan process their conversation.

“You got her to smile,” Clint noted with surprise.

“A little chocolate and a patient ear go a long way, my friend.” Wanda sagely rinsed the dishes.

Clint poked his head out to observe Susan. Her head was turned away, but the lines of her body had eased, and she was holding one knee loosely, hair swept partially over one shoulder, her attention focused on the door.

“Sometimes,” Clint said, “I think you might actually be magic.”

*

Peter hid it well, but he was still deeply shaken. He had nearly told Aunt May a secret which he’d held closely guarded for the past eight years. His heart had been beating triple-time. If he’d been holding someone’s hand, he probably would have crushed all their bones with his super-strength. He’d built up so much courage, tried to steel himself for any reaction, and in the end, he hadn’t been able to do it.

He had an emotional hangover.

Johnny may be an idiot with emotions, but when it came down to it, he was a good friend. Johnny had offered to spend the night, had sent out for pizza and paid for it himself, and had urged Peter to plug in his old Nintendo unit and fire up Mario Kart.

Two pepperoni pizzas and half a two-liter of soda later, Johnny and Peter were completely immersed in their Mario Kart battle. Peter had momentarily forgotten about his troubles, and even if he was pissed off about Johnny playing so aggressively, deep down, he was thankful that he was still here.

Aunt May had bussed away their empty boxes and brought up a tray of freshly baked cookies.

Even when Peter had felt like his world was crashing in around him, the people who cared the most about him were still there.

Gwen had texted him apologizing for getting out of work late. Peter kept pausing the game to text her back. She sent him jokes and pictures and stupid memes. He sent her equally stupid and sappy things.

By the time they had played every possible mode and level of Mario Kart, twice, Peter felt a lot better. He’d been reminded of what mattered most in life.

Peter went to bed nervous that night. While Johnny snored from the sleeping bag on the floor, Peter stared at his darkened ceiling and ran over and over the conversation in his mind. The shadows playing on the ceiling seemed to mock him, but he know what he had to do. He closed his eyes tight and tried to sleep.

 

**Several Hours Later**

New York seemed friendly in the late-morning sun. Humidity made the air thick and heavy, causing a dreamy haze to hang over the tops of skyscrapers. It was the kind of sluggish heat that made one’s blood flow like syrup.

Johnny strolled along at an unhurried pace, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed straight ahead. He was getting kinda hungry. Peter had left in such a hurry that morning, all Johnny’d had time for was to grab a pop tart and a Sunny D before Peter unceremoniously shoved him out of the apartment and web-slinged his way across the city in full costume.

Johnny idly wondered what sounded good to him. There were a lot of food trucks in town, and restaurants around every corner. He was an eat-anything kind of guy; not terribly picky, but the more calories, the better. Junk food sounded pretty good. Maybe pizza, or doughnuts…

Johnny rounded a corner and stopped in his tracks.

His senses flew into high alert. His gut twisted. His pulse spiked. His feet seemed rooted to the spot.

He thought he must be seeing things.

There, on the sidewalk, not half a city block away from him, Gambit stood in full battle gear. One fist clenched around his bo-staff. His silver boots glinted in the sunlight. His tan overcoat hung straight down in the utter lack of breeze. Sunlight glinted off the silver plating on his chest, almost blinding. His face bore a scowl. And he was staring right at him.

“Remy?” Johnny rasped.

Gambit pulled something out of his pocket with a snarl. His eyes glowed red. He held the object aloft until it glowed hot pink.

Johnny frowned in confusion. His blood prickled with the rush of ice-cold adrenaline. His stomach flipped. “Remy?”

Gambit chucked the card right at him.

Johnny gaped in dumb betrayal.

The card sailed within inches of Johnny’s head, but instead of hitting him like he expected it to, the card lodged itself between the robotic plates of a purple-and-silver kneecap only two meters behind him.

The Sentinel behind him paused to look down at itself. It seemed to have decided that the card presented no threat. It took a step forward. The card exploded.

Metal and circuitry shot outwards in all directions. Nearby civilians screamed and ducked, scurrying out of the way in panic, but Gambit didn’t notice them. He whipped out another card, charged it, and blew out the Sentinel’s other knee.

The Sentinel crashed to the ground.

Gambit launched himself at the Sentinel and viciously beat it with his bo-staff, puncturing it in several places. His irises glowed red. He’d found a way to channel energy down his bo-staff and into other objects. He was using this ability to fry the Sentinel’s circuitry. Smoke and sparks billowed from the downed Sentinel. Gambit punctured it over and over until its eyes went dead. He rose from the battered wreckage with a snarl.

Johnny’s eyes were wide. He was still standing there, gaping dumbly. “Remy?”

Gambit hopped down from the Sentinel’s head and took three powerful strides towards Johnny, his eyes burning, bo-staff gripped tight. Johnny took half a step back, afraid. Gambit grabbed Johnny’s wrist to stop him from running.

Johnny’s eyes darted across Gambit’s face. His breathing was fast and shallow.

“Why didn’ you call me?” Gambit asked, his voice rough.

“I,” Johnny started. He frowned. “I _did!_ But… you didn’t pick up, and… I thought…” Fear and insecurity backlit his features. He swallowed. “When you didn’t call back,” he rambled, “I thought… I thought maybe you gave me the wrong number, or maybe you didn’t want to talk to me, or maybe you didn’t want to see me again, maybe you… forgot about me, or-”

“Johnny.” Gambit drew him closer. He wrapped his arms around Johnny and rested his cheek against the top of his head. “Of _course_ Ah couldn’ forget you.”

Johnny’s voice sounded thick. "Oh."

Gambit stroked Johnny’s citrus-sunshine hair, breathing him in. Seeing him after so long… it made him dizzy. “When ya didn’ call,” Gambit said quietly, “Ah thought maybe _you_ was de one dat didn’ wan’ tu see _me.”_

“What?!” Johnny squawked. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I want to see _you?!_ You’re… amazing, and wonderful, and perfect, and-”

Gambit held a finger against Johnny’s lips, silencing him. “Ah’m far from perfect.”

Johnny gave him a look which screamed plainly that he begged to differ. He opened his mouth to say so, but Gambit pressed his finger harder against those soft pink lips.

Gambit’s mouth turned up on one side. “We should catch up.” Gambit had forgotten how open and expressive Johnny’s face was. He’d forgotten the exact shade of those Caribbean-blue eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d ever forgotten a single detail about Johnny’s face.

Insecurity leaked from Johnny like a water balloon made of cheesecloth. The longer he stared, the more his eyes lingered- on Gambit’s cheekbone, his nose, his chin. Gambit suspected Johnny had forgotten things about him, too. It had been far too long.

Gambit slowly drew his finger away, freeing Johnny’s mouth. “Care fo’ a cup a’ coffee?” Gambit offered, and he tried to sound casual, but failed.

Johnny seemed uncertain. “…Sure.”

*

“You’re uncharacteristically stiff for a guy made out of rubber,” Tony joked.

Reed gave him a dirty look. He continued tightening a bolt on something, anxious to keep his hands busy.

“Seriously.” Tony clapped him on the back. “What’s up?”

Reed sighed. “Have you ever had to make a decision which seemed to have no favorable moral outcome?”

“Morals are tricky,” Tony said, picking up a screwdriver. “There are at least two dozen schools of moral thought, and I’ll spare you the ethics lesson, but basically nobody agrees with anyone on anything. So you’ve really got to do what’s best for you.” He managed to tighten five screws while he was talking.

Reed stared grimly at the advanced circuitry. “What if I’m not sure what that is?”

“Then you’re thinking too much.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. politely announced that a visitor was here to see him.

“Send him in.” Tony closed a door on the suit he was working on and latched it shut. “So what’s this moral dilemma?”

Reed pulled out a wire and bent it more precisely. “Something that could turn the tide of this war. But not in a good way.”

“Then don’t do it.” Tony popped a handful of blueberries in his mouth.

“What if it supports our best interests?”

Tony swallowed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Reed opened his mouth at the same time the door to his lab buzzed.

Tony held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He answered the door. Spider-man stood there, in full costume. He seemed nervous. “Spidey!” Tony said with a grin.

“Hey, Mister Stark.” Peter shuffled self-consciously. “Can— can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yes you can-can. Right this way.” He escorted Peter out of the room with a hand on the small of his back.

*

Johnny sat across the booth from Remy, gripping his coffee tight with both hands. His leg jiggled under the table. He wasn’t sure what to do; he kept trying to look everywhere else but at Remy, even though Remy was all Johnny wanted to see. The mellow music overhead only heightened his anxiety. He was feeling more of a screeching-guitars fast-bass kind of mood, not this acoustic coffee shop crap. If his superpowers hadn’t robbed him of his sweat glands, his palms would be slippery by now. His leg jiggled harder. Remy LeBeau was sitting across from him, solid and real and every bit as ridiculously good-looking as Johnny remembered, and instead of the his-insides-have-turned-into-tangled-lightning feeling that Johnny was experiencing, Remy seemed completely calm. He sipped his tea, eyes half-closed, and stared at Johnny.

The silence was unbearable. “So,” Johnny said just for the sake of saying something, “How was New Orleans?”

That beautiful face shut down. Johnny could almost swear he felt the room cool ten degrees. Remy stared into the distance for a long moment, pain and weariness just below the stoic surface. “Ah’d rathah hear about you.” The corner of his mouth turned up. Warmth crept back into his eyes. He leaned on his elbows, his ruby-and-garnet-and-ember irises almost seeming to glow as he leaned towards Johnny across the table. “What’ve you been doin’ all dis time?”

Johnny’s heartbeat stumbled. “Uh.” He stared into those beautiful red-and-black eyes, spellbound.

Gloved fingers caressed Johnny’s forearm. Liquid heat spread from the point of contact, not enough for Johnny’s skin to glow, but enough to make his lips part and his pupils widen. Remy leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Tell me about it.”

Johnny started babbling. Words flew out of his mouth before he had time to think about them. He rambled about dinosaurs and cavemen and swords and spears, rattled off various places they’d visited, and any time Remy’s eyebrow quirked or his eyes sparkled with interest, Johnny would go back and elaborate, in detail, on whatever Remy had seemed interested in. “Did I tell you about the time I punched a t-rex in the face? Because I punched a t-rex in the face.”

“Mon brave petit luciole,” Remy murmured.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed without knowing what that translated to, “It was awesome. Reed was trying to hit it with this blaster thing, right? But I kept telling him that wouldn’t work. Dinosaurs have thick skin. I told him the scales would reflect the ray right back at him. But he kept telling me he knows way more about science than I do, so I was like, okay, whatever, your funeral. So he shoots the t-rex with the ray-gun right? Bounces off. Just like I told him. And it hits this tree, which falls on a house- that was a mess. Anyway. So Reed is trying to reload this thing because he thinks maybe if he shoots it _harder_ it’ll work. Susan calls out for Reed, because she’s trying to hold up the roof of a house and help the children escape, Reed looks away, he’s distracted. Ben is fighting a triceratops. And the t-rex goes to bite this kid that’s staring at it like this.” Johnny mimicked the kid’s expression, eyes like saucers, mouth agape. “So I fly at this thing full-force and punch it in the face. On fire. –It was awesome.”

“Très courageux,” Remy murmured with a smile.

Encouraged, Johnny went into greater detail about his heroic escapade against the dinosaurs, asserting things like ‘their scales were harder than Ben’s toenails!’ and ‘they have worse breath than a garbage truck’ and ‘their temper is worse than Wolverine on a bad hair day.’ He emphasized his part in the fight, highlighting all of his heroic moments.

The longer Johnny spoke, the cockier he became. He talked with his hands, gesturing expressively, sometimes with his whole body.

Remy watched the various emotions play across Johnny’s face, drank in the way Johnny lit up when he was excited. Remy had missed that enthusiasm. He’d missed the run-on sentences, the exclamations and interjections that peppered his speech, the way those lively eyes darted all over his face, searching for something, enchanted, enthralled, and a little bit scared.

As Johnny’s ramble about the dinosaurs wound down, Remy found himself wishing he could disintegrate the table between them. “Wha’ do you say we take dis conversation somewhere else, mon ami?”

“Uh.” Johnny stared dumbly for a moment, caught off-guard.

Remy’s eyes heated like embers. “Somewhere less… public?”

“Uh.” Johnny’s cheeks started to glow.

“Unless… you want dem to watch?” Remy was standing over Johnny, one hand on the side of his face, leaning towards him.

Johnny swallowed. “Watch what?”

Remy hauled Johnny to his feet like a ballet dancer, spun them so Johnny was in the middle of the café, and bent down; connected at the pelvis, Johnny bent backward with borrowed grace, mouth ajar, cheeks warm, arms around Remy’s neck for balance. Remy smirked. He surged towards Johnny’s mouth, connecting them in a heated kiss. The air around them distorted in a rush of heat waves. Johnny opened his mouth and melted into the kiss, giving himself over, but just at that tipping point, Remy pulled away with a heated smile. “It’s up to you, petit.” Remy’s sweet breath heated Johnny’s chin.

“You, uh.” Johnny cleared his throat. “You got somewhere in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gambit calls Johnny "my brave little firefly" and tbh it's probably my favorite nickname any of my muses has ever used, ever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **MATURE CONTENT**
> 
> The rest of this work is rated Teen, but there is Mature content in this chapter. It should be fairly obvious when it comes up. Those who wish to skip over it can go ahead and skip to the next asterisk.
> 
> To those interested in reading the Mature content, it contains the following:  
> -Holding back, Delayed gratification, Hickeys, Body worship, Temperature kink, Slow & sensual, Making out, Oral, and possibly Edging

Peter’s heart thumped in his throat. He’d hero-worshipped Tony Stark for as long as he could remember. Tony Stark was everything he wished he was- handsome, rich, brilliant. Popular with the ladies. At ease in front of the press. Peter wished he had even _half_ the self-esteem Tony had. Tony had taken him under his wing shortly after he’d discovered his powers. He’d tended Peter’s wounds in that back alley, voiced sympathy that he was just a kid. He’d promised he would never tell anyone who Peter was. They’d fought side-by-side a dozen times.

And here he was, sitting across from his smiling hero, about to change the course of their relationship forever.

Peter took a deep breath. “I can’t do it.”

Tony’s smile strained. “Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do it, Tony. I can’t get up there, on national television…”

“Peter, darling. You’re over-thinking it. Don’t worry about all those people judging you. Your boss is an asshole. Don’t let him get to your head. Peter, the crowd is going to _love_ you! You’re a _hero!_ You’ve saved their _lives._ Instead of worrying, try picturing them in their underwear. That’s what I do. Some of them are actually pretty hot.”

“That’s not the problem!”

“Is it being on TV? Because being on TV is just like being onstage, except you can’t hear them cheering for you. Don’t be afraid of the camera, Peter. If you want, I have some fabulous cosmetologists. They can touch up your hair, give you a makeover-”

“No! Tony, it’s…” Peter put his head in his hands. “…I tried to tell Aunt May, and I couldn’t.”

“Pfft.” Tony waved his hand. “No worries! She’ll find out with the rest of us. No big deal, right? Saves the confrontation.”

Peter shook his head. “She’s not gonna find out.”

“What are you saying.”

“I’m saying…” This was the most difficult thing Peter had to say. “…I’m out.”

Tony stared at him, stunned silent.

“I can’t tell the people closest to me that I lead a double-life. That I’m a super-hero. I can’t risk endangering their lives. I’m not like you, Tony. I can’t put them behind reinforced walls and an elaborate security system. There are people out there who _hate_ me, Tony. I— I’ve already lost friends because of this. When Harry found out… I’d killed his _father,_ Tony. Spider-man killed Norman Osborn, and Harry _hated_ him for it. When he found out that was me…”

“You’re afraid you’re going to kill someone else’s beloved relative?”

“No! I’m afraid because I have _enemies_ out there, Tony. There are people who want Spider-man dead. If one of those people found out who I was, and came after Gwen, or Aunt May, and I wasn’t fast enough to protect them..!”

“Don’t make decisions based on fear!” Tony retorted.

“I’m trusting my gut.” Peter stood. “If I can’t reveal my secret identity to the world, how can I ask thousands of others to do it, too?”

“Peter.” Tony reached for him. “You’re over-thinking this. The government has set up a comprehensive plan that-”

“–I quit, Tony.” Peter backed away. “I’m off the team.”

Tony frowned at him, pale. “You can’t just leave. I _need_ you!”

Peter turned and walked away.

“Peter!” Tony called after him. “You’re making a big mistake! I could protect you! You’re part of a _team,_ Peter!” When Peter didn’t slow, Tony went for the low blow. “What about your college tuition!?”

Peter’s steps faltered. “…I’ll figure something out.”

“Don’t take after him, Peter. Don’t think I don’t know where you’re going! Peter!”

Peter kept walking.

“Peter!!”

*

Johnny hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings at all. His entire focus had been on the man beside him, the man _holding his hand_ and occasionally glancing at him out the corner of his beautiful, perfect eye.

Because Johnny hadn’t been paying any attention to his surroundings, it was with complete surprise that he found himself in a freshly repainted foyer and having that reassuring hand knocked from his grasp by a blur of pink and yellow enthusiastically shouting “GAMBIT!” before tackling him in a full-body hug.

“Hey!” Johnny objected, frowning.

“Hi, petit,” Remy greeted, unruffled, hugging Jubilee as she clung to him.

“Where have you _been?”_ Jubilee demanded. “You can’t just run off like that! We’ve been trying to reach you for _months!_ Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She punched his shoulder.

“Ah did.” He shot Johnny an enigmatic look.

“Oh.” Johnny’s face fell. His shoulders drooped.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah got a _very_ interesting message.”

Johnny was shot through simultaneously with hope and panic.

Jubilee’s gaze bounced between them, trying to figure out what they weren’t saying. Her eyes rested suspiciously on Johnny.

“Somet’in’ about someone bein’ in _love_ wit’ me..?”

Johnny burned bright red. He looked like he wanted to run somewhere.

Remy smirked. His hand came to rest on the small of Johnny’s back. “…an’ Ah knew it was time tu come home.”

Johnny’s gaze shot up to meet Remy’s. Remy regarded him with warm heat, his eyes half-closed, mouth upturned. Johnny leaned closer, terrified, hopeful. Remy’s gaze softened and focused on Johnny’s mouth. Johnny’s lips parted.

Jubilee interrupted the moment by whining, “What about the _rest_ of us?!”

Remy smirked. “Ah missed more dan just him, cher.” He ruffled her hair fondly. “Ah trust mah room is still where Ah left it?”

“Yeah,” Jubilee answered, arms crossed, pouting. “Still empty.”

“Send my t’anks to de professor.” Remy laced his fingers with Johnny’s. He headed towards the staircase, a spellbound Johnny trailing after him.

“So that’s it?!” Jubilee called after him. “You’re gone for half a year, and you just say ‘hi’ and leave again?! What am I, chopped liver!?”

Remy shot her a wave over his shoulder with his free hand, but kept walking.

Jubilee sighed heavily. “Ugh. Whatever.” She kicked the air and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“Something bothering you, Jubilee?” Storm asked from a doorway.

“Gambit’s back,” she answered.

“Gambit?” Storm raised her elegant eyebrows. “He did not tell us he was coming back.”

“That’s not a _problem_ , is it?”

“Not at all,” Storm reassured her. “It is merely a surprise. But you do not seem very happy that he is back.”

“He barely even said hi! And then he went off to his room with John—!” Jubilee cut herself off, blushing. “Oh.”

*

Gambit’s bedroom was darkened, lit only by a few glass-contained candles which burned with purple flames. His coat had been flung to the floor near the door, which was closed and locked. Four boots littered the burgundy carpet- two silver, two black, kicked off haphazardly and abandoned, along with a tan overcoat, a black belt, and two pairs of gloves. A pink-and-black shirt dangled over the edge of the king-sized bed, discarded. The thick lilac-and-cream curtains were pulled shut. Dim sunlight filtered through, casting the room in a warm pinkish light.

In the privacy of the warm darkened room, Johnny lay half-naked on Gambit’s bed, his head tilted back, gasping as Gambit mouthed at his neck. Gambit held Johnny’s wrists pinned to the mattress; he hovered over him, just out of reach, close enough to share body heat. He trailed his mouth down Johnny’s neck, torturously slow, kissing and licking, sucking, and biting, turning the exposed skin purple, one kiss at a time.

Johnny writhed and gasped beneath him. The air shimmered with heat. “Y-your bedsheets,” Johnny argued, “they aren’t flame— _ah! ohgod_ — f-flameproof!”

“Don’ worry about it, mon amour,” Remy purred, nuzzling a slow trail down Johnny’s chest. “Jus’ don’ burst into flame.” He placed an open-mouthed kiss between Johnny’s pecs.

“You know I can’t- _ah!-_ c-control it!” Johnny screwed his eyes shut as Remy closed his mouth over one nipple. Johnny’s muscles tensed. He arced off the bed, gasping.

“Have you evah _tried?”_ Remy murmured. He engulfed the peaked nipple with his mouth once more, swirling his tongue around it faster and faster.

Johnny whimpered. “I— I can’t— I can’t—”

“Of course you can,” Remy purred. He nuzzled his way across Johnny’s chest and traced the other nipple with his nose.

“I really can’t-!” Johnny sounded desperate. His skin was quite warm, and he was starting to glow.

“Try,” Remy urged. He sucked Johnny’s nipple into his mouth and drew his tongue back and forth across it quickly.

Johnny whimpered brokenly and glowed brighter. The bedsheets started to smoke.

Remy moved his hands up Johnny’s arms, cooling the skin wherever he touched. He caressed the parts of Johnny’s skin that were in contact with his silk bedsheets. His unrelenting mouth made love to Johnny’s nipple.

Johnny arched and gasped. “I’m gonna-! Remy I’m gonna-! I can’t stop it, please!”

“Shhh,” Remy soothed. He released Johnny’s nipple, caressed his sizzling back, and met his lips in a leisurely kiss. He soothed him with his mouth, in no rush to do anything but re-memorize this body, this tongue, every little noise he made against him.

Johnny gradually stopped glowing. His hands wound their way into Remy’s soft auburn hair. He kissed Remy with such sincere tenderness, such open vulnerability. Every inch of his guard had been let down.

Remy reluctantly released his mouth. “Better?”

Johnny nodded.

“Good.” Remy caressed the side of Johnny’s face gently. He gave him a tender smile. Then he shifted his weight and moved backward, trailing his nose and mouth down Johnny’s torso.

Johnny’s breath hitched. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Ah gave you some time tu cool down, mon amour.” He nuzzled the waistband of Johnny’s pants. “Now, it’s time tu turn up de heat.”

“Wh-”

Remy exhaled hot air against the bulge straining against Johnny’s pants. Johnny gasped. Remy traced the bulge from base to tip, slow and sensual, barely touching it with his lips. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Johnny’s pants, and slowly tugged them down. Johnny’s erection sprung free.

Remy eyed it hungrily. He drew one finger up and down the shaft, slow and teasing. “You have no idea how long Ah’ve been wanting tu do this…”

Johnny stared at him, spellbound, trying to remember how to breathe.

Remy nuzzled the shaft with his cheek, eyes almost closed, drunk on the slickness of Johnny’s skin, on that silky sheath covering the pillar of hot steel. His mouth hung ajar; he exhaled heatedly.

A choked whimper escaped Johnny’s throat.

“-as long as you are okay with it, mon amour?” Remy turned his mouth towards the tip and paused, waiting. He didn’t want to stop; every fiber of him was screaming to milk this boy dry. But Remy never goes where he wasn’t invited.

As soon as the words registered through his sex-addled brain, Johnny nodded so fast it made him dizzy.

Remy chuckled, deep and low, and drew the tip into his mouth. He ran his tongue all over it like it was his favorite flavor. He licked and sucked, tongued the salty bead of moisture, spread the lubricant around with his tongue, making Johnny whimper and moan. Remy drew nearly the whole shaft into his mouth. Johnny gasped. Remy hooked two fingers around the base and started pumping in tandem with his bobbing head. Johnny dissolved into a twitching mess, his mind clear of everything except remembering to breathe.

*

“-Yes,” Storm said, “I think that is a fair assessment.” She seemed amused.

“Oh god, and I was going to _follow_ him!” Jubilee groaned.

Storm patted her arm. “I am sure Gambit will reunite with us all in due time.”

“This is _so_ awkward.”

“What’s awkward?” Kitty wondered, entering the foyer with an ice cream cone and Rogue in tow. Rogue licked her lime-green popsicle innocently.

“Gambit’s back!” Jubilee said in a weird voice.

“He is?” Kitty replied with surprise. “Oh, cool! Johnny must be excited.”

Jubilee covered her face and groaned loudly.

“He seems happy to be back,” Storm smoothed over.

Rogue glanced at Jubilee with an unreadable, slightly confused expression. “…There’s an ice cream truck around the block. If you run, you might still catch it.”

“On it!” Jubilee sprinted out the door.

“What was she so weird about?” Kitty wondered.

“There was an awkward situation. Think nothing of it.” Storm smiled placatingly. “How is your ice cream?”

*

“What kind of monster destroys an _entire_ ice cream truck?!” Ben raged, slamming his huge rocky fists down on a metal table. The table buckled under his weight and crumpled like tinfoil.

“I admit the situation is troubling,” the professor said, “but there is little more that we can do. We already have our full forces out there, patrolling every day.”

Ben glared sullenly at his clenched fists. He was covered in splotches of strawberry, vanilla, and mint chocolate chip. “Yeah, an’ where’s it gettin’ us?”

“The forces have always been stacked against us,” the professor said. “We do what we can to survive.”

“Well, what if I’m sick of survivin’? What if I want to just live in peace?”

“I understand your concerns,” the professor said. “And I will certainly be making a few phone calls. But you and your team did your best. No one was harmed today. I count that as a victory.”

“Victory, my ass.” Ben turned and stalked out of the room.

“He’s right, Professor,” Jean said quietly after he left. “The attacks seem to be escalating.”

“They’re targeting _children,”_ Cyclops added.

“A troubling notion, indeed,” the professor said. “And putting non-mutant children in danger, as well. Someone out there is very angry with us. And I intend to figure out why.”

*

Ben was loading his ice-cream-covered shorts into a washing machine when Gambit strolled in, carrying the tattered, singed-and-blackened remains of what looked like it used to be a rather nice silk bed-set. Ben raised a rocky brow ridge at him. “Rough night?”

Gambit hummed. “Ah t’ink Ah’ll be needin’ some new bedsheets.” He set them in a laundry basket on top of a washing machine which was still in use.

“Ya don’t seem too upset.”

“It was worth it.” Gambit smiled. “By de way, how come you an’ Johnny are stayin’ wit’ de X-Men?” He arced an eyebrow. “-Trouble at home?”

“He didn’t tell ya?”

“His mouth was a little… occupied.” Gambit smirked.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Soon as we got back from Europe, Susan an’ Reed got into a big fight. Looks like this time it’s for real. She gave the ring back an’ everything. Heard Susan’s joined Team Cap, an’ Reed’s working with Team Stark.”

Gambit winced. “Dat sounds pretty final, mon ami.”

“Yeah no kiddin’. But they’ve bounced back before. ‘s just a matter of time, I guess.”

“Ya t’ink dey’ll be gettin’ back together?”

“’s what they usually do.” Ben turned the dial on his machine and started it up. “Meantime, may as well make myself useful. No use sittin’ around waitin’ t’ see if they make up.”

“Hmmm,” Gambit hummed. “So you joined de X-Men.”

“I didn’t join anything. I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.”

Gambit clapped Ben on his huge, rocky shoulder. “It’s good tu have you back.”

“Whatever, Cajun.” Ben shifted so Gambit’s hand fell from his shoulder. “We all know why you _really_ came back.”

Gambit arched an eyebrow.

Ben smirked. “You missed losin’ at poker.”

Gambit chuckled. “Mon ami, Ah _nevah_ lose.”

“Care to bet on that?”

“Is dat a challenge?” Gambit’s eye sparked.

“Could be,” Ben said. “Or it could be I’m not stupid enough t’ bet against ya, an’ I happened upon a cocky group of thugs the other day that could really stand to be taken down a peg…”

Gambit flashed a pack of cards from his pocket. “Say no more, mon ami.”

*

Johnny huddled on the couch, wearing a borrowed pink shirt and pajama shorts with pink-and-white kitties all over them. His knees were drawn up to his chin, his expression regretful.

Rogue glanced at him over the edge of her book. He’d been sitting there for about ten minutes, and hadn’t once reached for the TV remote or a video game controller. Far as she remembered, this was very unusual for Johnny. She wasn’t sure whether she should say something, or if she’d only make things worse if she did. Kitty kept telling her she needed to work on her confidence.

Johnny sighed and bit his lip. He hugged his knees tighter.

Rogue placed a bookmark between the pages and set her book down. Her guts twisted. Her hands formed fists. She took a deep breath and crossed the room. “Johnny?”

Johnny startled so hard he nearly fell off the couch. “Oh. Uh, hi Rogue. Did you… want something?”

“Ah remember you bein’ a lot louder,” she attempted to joke. “Did somethin’ happen? An’ aren’t those Gambit’s clothes?”

Johnny blushed. “Uh. Y-yeah. I kinda… incinerated mine.”

“Ah thought you lived here though? Don’tchu have more clothes in your room? Not that it’s any ‘a mah business, but. Ah thought’chu _hated_ pink.”

“I like it on some people,” Johnny squeaked, face reddening and starting to glow.

Rogue snorted. “Some people, huh.” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Johnny squeaked even higher, “Maybe one.” His clothes started to smoke.

“Whoa there, sugah!” Rogue touched his arm. They both had about half a second to process the repercussions of this before Rogue snatched her hand away and her palm ignited. Rogue jumped back in alarm.

Johnny’s flame doused immediately. “Shit! Sorry!” He grabbed her hand between his and absorbed the heat, but the heat spread up her arm. Rogue stared at her arm, paralyzed with fear. Johnny kept touching her, trying to absorb the heat. It wasn’t until he reached her clothed shoulder that he had any success.

“Ah knew Ah shoulda worn long sleeves today,” Rogue moaned, hiding her face.

“What?! That’s ridiculous! It’s like 80 degrees out there!”

“Yeah, well _you_ don’t absorb other people’s powers an’ memories by touching them. Speakin’ ‘a which. Is… is that _really_ how it feels t—?” Her hands lowered from her face. Her eyes were unfocused. “Th’ way you feel when he touches you…”

Johnny pinwheeled his arms in panic. His face glowed bright orange. “SHIT! SHIT, what did you see?!? Oh shit. Oh shit, have you had—Do I have to give you _the talk?!_ No wait, how old are you. You’ve had that, right? Shit what did you see what did you _see?”_

“Quit yer yappin’!” Rogue gently punched his clothed sternum. “Ah saw you two kiss. ‘cept it… it was like _Ah_ was kissin’ ‘im. An’ it… It felt like Ah…” Rogue shook her head to clear it. “-You really love him that much?”

Johnny balked. “Wh-who said anything about _love?!”_

“If you give me a crush on that swamp rat, Ah swear-”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Who has a crush on him? What are you talking about! He’s just-! He’s just my-! Oh. Ohgod we’re dating. Aren’t we? What _are_ we?”

Rogue rubbed her forehead. “Well Ah don’ know about _him,_ but if _your_ feelin’s are any indication, Ah sure _hope_ you’re datin’. Besides, he left right after you did, an’ he came back two days after you came back, an’ he ain’t never done that for anyone else. Plus you’re wearin’ his clothes, an’ he ain’t exactly in the habit of lendin’ those out.”

“You…” Johnny calmed. “You think he… likes me, too?”

“Fer godssake, Johnny, he _kissed_ you, didn’t ‘e?!”

“Well yeah.” Johnny rubbed his arm. “But I’ve kissed _hundreds_ of people, and… it’s never felt like _that_ before.”

“Lucky you.” Rogue hugged herself. “Ah’ve only kissed one person, an’ Ah put ‘im in a coma.”

“Must’ve been one helluva kiss!” Johnny joked.

“Yeah,” Rogue said, darkly sober. “It must have been.”

Johnny realized he’d made a mistake. He quieted and sobered. “That’s right,” he realized. “You can’t touch people skin-to-skin.”

“Nope.”

“…Damn.” Johnny sat down. His face screwed up like he was trying to puzzle something out.

“Don’ hurt yourself,” Rogue joked. It came out darker than she intended. She sat down on the other end of the couch. “There’s probably only one person Ah could kiss without killin’ ‘im, an’ Ah’m pretty sure Ah’ve messed that one up forever.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. How bad can it be?”

“He ran off t’ join another team, not too long after he figured out mah feelin’s.”

Johnny stared at the blank TV. “Well… Shit.”

*

Scott was alone in the control room, his cheek propped up on his hand. He still had flecks of chocolate and cherry on his suit. Behind his visor, his eyelids grew heavy. His head bobbed, heavy with sleep. He jerked and sat up, shaking his head. “This is no good,” he said to himself. “I need coffee.” He pressed a button on the console. The screen dimmed. Scott stood up and stretched, yawning. He shuffled out of the room.

Behind his receding back, a distress alarm flashed in the corner of the computer screen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I am so sorry it's been so long since my last update!
> 
> Life happened. Among the Life Happenings in the past few weeks, I have  
> -helped three siblings do last-minute back-to-school shopping, and then helped send them off to college  
> -gotten several interviews by the same company, which hired me, so now I have a second job  
> -been adjusting my sleep schedule for said job  
> -helped around the house a lot because my mom hurt her leg and she's on crutches, so I've been cooking dinner and doing laundry etc. etc.  
> -and I met my #1 favorite person/hero, and I still can't believe that happened, but it was real and he's amazing and if you follow me on tumblr or twitter or if you're facebook friends with me, you've already seen me gushing about this a LOT, but seriously that was the best moment of my entire life and I will remember it forever
> 
> But I am back! And there is more to this story, so stay tuned! I have lots of exciting chapters in store! :D

Johnny tiptoed out of the common room, careful not to wake Rogue, who lay sleeping on the couch, tucked into a blanket as though someone had recently done so with care.

Johnny paused in the hallway. He stared one way for a moment, then the other, his face creased in a thoughtful expression.

He made his decision and headed towards Gambit’s room.

The hallway was dark and silent, until a bright light started flashing above one of the doors around the corner. Johnny frowned and hurried his pace.

“Nngh!” Gambit’s voice carried down the hall. “N-no! Mon dieu! Not th’ children!”

It sounded like he was struggling.

Johnny sprinted to Gambit’s door. It was locked. Pink light glowed beneath the door. The emergency light over the door flashed over and over.

Johnny cursed. “Sorry about this.” He reached for the doorknob and melted it. He kicked the door open.

Gambit was writhing on his bed, eyes screwed shut tight. His bedsheets were glowing.

“REMY!” Johnny dove for Gambit, grabbed him bridal style, and flew out the window just before Gambit’s bedsheets exploded.

Gambit woke up with a start. “Th’ children!” he said, trying to fight his way out of Johnny’s arms.

Johnny landed and released the struggling Gambit. He spared a troubled glance over his shoulder at Gambit’s shattered window.

Gambit blinked rapidly. He held a hand to his head. Frowning, he followed Johnny’s gaze. “Merde!” he cursed. “Did Ah do that?”

“Yeah. You nearly blew yourself up!”

Gambit turned. “Did Ah hurt you?”

“What?” Johnny blinked. “No, I’m fine.”

“Wha’s dis?” Gambit caressed a small cut on Johnny’s cheek.

“That? That’s nothing. I… ran into a door,” Johnny fibbed.

“Ah _did_ hurt you…” Gambit smoothed his thumb over the small cut. Johnny flinched. Gambit licked the tip of his thumb and wiped away the droplet of blood on Johnny’s cheek.

“I’m fine,” Johnny said faintly. His heart fluttered high in his throat. His vision went hazy. He leaned into Gambit’s hand. The two of them leaned closer.

“Gambit!” Storm bellowed, lowering herself to the pavement. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Ah’m fine, cher. All t’anks to mah knight in shinin’… underwear.”

Johnny looked down, blushed, and crossed his arms over his torso awkwardly.

“Was there an attack?” Storm pressed. “Cyclops alerted the entire mansion when you set off the alarm!”

“Aw.” Gambit rubbed the back of his neck. “Ya didn’ have tu do that, cher.”

Storm pressed a button near her ear. “Call them off,” she ordered. “There was no attack. Everyone seems to be fine.” She gave Gambit a worried, reprimanding look. “What were you doing in there?”

“Jus’ sleepin’, cher.” He winked.

Storm narrowed her eyes at them. “It would do you well to be more _careful_ with your… relationship.”

“What?!” Johnny gawked. “We weren’t—he was having a nightmare!”

“This is the second time an alarm has been set off in your room, Gambit.” Storm gave him a look.

“That set off an _alarm?!”_ Johnny hissed.

“Ah’ll be more careful, cher.” He winked again. “Don’ lie… You enjoy de view.” He posed seductively, putting his hips on display. He was wearing nothing except a hot pink pair of Calvin Klein boxer-briefs.

Storm averted her eyes. “I _enjoy_ a good night’s sleep.”

“Don’ we all,” Gambit purred.

Storm turned away. She pressed a finger to her earpiece again. “…Yes. Thank you, Jean. I’ll tell him.” She glanced sideways at Gambit. “Your bed has been destroyed. The mattress and the frame were both affected by the explosion.”

Gambit swore.

“-Be careful,” Storm warned him once more before taking off and flying back to the mansion.

“Well,” Gambit drawled, “looks like Ah’ll be needin’ anotha’ place tu sleep.” He eyed Johnny, irises glowing. “Mind if Ah crash at _your_ place?”

Johnny’s eyes dropped to Gambit’s naked chest. His gaze trailed downward, following the path of close-cropped curly hair. He gulped.

Gambit stepped closer, smirking.

*

Johnny had never slept next to another person before. He wasn’t sure where to put his limbs. He was constantly aware of everything he did, every slight shift in the mattress, every breath Remy took.

“Relax, cher,” Remy drawled. “You’ll nevah fall asleep like dat.”

“What if I kick you? What if one of us has a nightmare? What if I wake you up without meaning to and you think I’m annoying? What if something bad happens and _neither_ of us wakes up? What if-?”

“Shhhh. Johnny.” Remy cupped Johnny’s face with one hand and guided him into a gentle kiss. He kept their mouths connected until Johnny relaxed into a boneless mass. Remy released him slowly, lips lingering until the last possible moment. His eyes glowed gently in the dark. “It’s gonna be all righ’.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, dazed and calm. “It’s gonna be all right.”

Remy settled around Johnny, spooning him from behind. “Now, get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Johnny snuggled comfortably against Remy, warm and content and safe.

Within minutes, both of them fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

*

Tony Stark stepped out of his limo and tightened his tie. Pinkish sunlight filtered through his red-tinted sunglasses. They beautifully disguised his bloodshot eyes. He took confident strides up the stone walkway, hair perfect, suit pressed, smelling of expensive cologne and just a hint of mouthwash. He smiled at the man setting up the microphone. The man smiled back nervously. Behind Tony, reporters were already beginning to gather.

Happy checked nervously, for the fifth time since they’d left Stark Tower, that Tony was wearing “protection.” Tony rolled his eyes and flashed his bulletproof vest. He promised he’d be fine, and yes, he knew “the procedure.”

Tony shuffled through his notecards behind the podium. He probably wasn’t going to say most of what he’d spent the night writing and re-writing. Most of it was memo-style sentence fragments anyway. There was only one card with an actual paragraph on it; the rest of them looked like something a college kid would write when they were cramming for a test— notes scrawled in the margins, things added here and there with little arrows.

The crowd of reporters thickened. Cameras flashed. Mics were tapped, sending feedback. Equipment was tested. Some of the older-fashioned ones flipped to empty pages in their notebooks. Some of the younger, more hip ones set up their laptops. One of the ones in the front had a very good-smelling cup from Starbucks. Tony wished he had coffee.

He checked his watch. 7:58.

“Well,” he said into the microphone at his podium, “I think it’s safe to say everybody important is here. Who’s gonna show up to a press conference two minutes before it starts?”

A ripple of quiet laughter dispersed through the audience. A camera flashed.

“Right, so.” Tony straightened his suit lapels unnecessarily and set down his notecards. “As you probably know, the Superhero Registration Act was put up to a vote yesterday. For those of you who have been living under a rock for the past three months, the Act is a set of guidelines put into place for the public’s protection. Superheroes… we’ve gotten out of control. First there was the situation with Ultron- which I cannot apologize enough for, by the way- that did _not_ go the way I intended- and then there was the incident with the bombing, and the assassination of the Wakandan king, along with countless other deaths that could have been prevented.

“Superheroes are supposed to make people feel _safe._ And lately, I think we’ve failed to do that. You shouldn’t be _scared_ of the ones who just want to protect you. Because of that, I am behind this Act 100%, and have been one of its biggest supporters since day one.”

Raucous noise erupted in the form of multiple camera clicks, a flurry of pens, the hurried tapping at dozens of keyboards, and a crescendo of multiple questions being asked at once.

Tony held up his hand. “I’ll take questions at the end!” Despite the microphone, he had to raise his voice to be heard.

The audience reluctantly quieted.

Tony paused and waited for a pregnant moment. Then, he continued. “The government drafted this Act purely for public safety. I’ve read through it, as you will be able to do soon, because as of today, this Act has become law.”

Another wave of cacophony erupted.

Tony spoke over them. “This means that every superhero, every super-powered individual who uses those abilities to protect the public, must register both their super-identity and their legal name with the government.” He had to speak louder. “The government wants this information not only for the public’s protection, but for the protection of super-powered individuals as well. Their number one priority is for everybody to be safe.

“Questions?”

The audience roared.

*

“I fucked up,” Peter said, trying not to hyperventilate. “I fucked up.”

“Peter?” Aunt May asked, concerned and confused.

“I-” Peter gulped. He scrambled for his backpack and ran a hand through his messy hair, messing it up even more. “I gotta go.”

“Peter? Is everything all right?”

Peter turned his back to Aunt May. He knew the stricken pain and panic on his face would give him away. “A friend of mine’s in trouble,” was all he could say. He hurried for the door.

“Will you be back for dinner?” Aunt May called after him. “We’re having roast beef and potato casserole. Your favorite, Peter!”

“I’ll try!” Peter called, hating himself for the lie.

He raced down the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. He desperately wished he could web his way across the city, but his costume was in his backpack. He didn’t have time to change.

He had to run.

He ran to the first place he could think of: Xavier Institute. Johnny was staying at the mansion; the only person in the world who knew he was Spider-man. That was the only place anyone had seen him in-costume without his mask, and no one had batted an eye. No one had recognized him; no one had cared. It was the only place where he might be safe.

He had no idea how long he’d need to hide out there. Weeks? Months?

Years?

What would he tell Aunt May?

Peter shook his head to clear it. He needed to hide out until he was no longer in danger.

He nearly ran into the leg of one of those giant robot-things that seemed to be everywhere lately. The Sentinel turned its head slowly and stared at him for a long moment, considering him. Peter’s heart caught in his throat. The soles of his shoes may as well be glued to the pavement. He waited for the Sentinel’s verdict.

The Sentinel slowly turned away and continued on its path down the street.

Peter let out the breath he’d been holding and continued on his flat-out run towards the X Mansion.

*

“I say we should all register,” Cyclops was saying. “We’re under enough pressure as it is. Following the law might make civilians feel safer around us.”

“I agree with Cyclops,” Storm stated. “Many of our identities are already public. This matter affects us little in the long run.”

“But aren’t you concerned about de government splittin’ us up?” Gambit argued. He stood in a corner of the room, arms crossed, wearing a dark expression. “Ah don’ trus’ dis act. Smells ‘a de same fish dat sicked dem robots on our kind.”

“We understand your concerns, Gambit,” Beast agreed peaceably. “After all, I have been arrested more than once by these very same people, and framed. But we must put our trust in the justice system, if we expect anyone to trust us.”

“Ah don’ trust _nobody.”_

“Not even your own team?” Jean pressed.

Gambit glared at her silently.

“Seriously?” Cyclops exclaimed. “After all we’ve been through, after all your years at the Institute, you _still_ don’t trust us?”

Jean laid a hand on Cyclops’s arm. She faced Gambit with a concerned expression. “Perhaps Gambit has a point,” she allowed. “Something _does_ feel off about this. Perhaps we should wait until we can read the Act before we register.”

“Read it or not,” Gambit scoffed, “Ah _still_ ain’t gonna register.”

“Then you’ll be on the wrong side of the _law!”_ Cyclops rebuked.

“Would hardly be de firs’ time,” Gambit said darkly.

“Is there anything,” Jean attempted to soothe them, “that would convince you to register, Gambit?”

Gambit snorted. “Maybe a huge cash prize,” he joked.

“That’s not funny!” Cyclops reprimanded. “Do you want the X-Men to be outlaws?!”

“Maybe Ah don’ wanna be part ‘a de X-Men,” Gambit threatened.

“Maybe we don’t want a _lawbreaker_ on our side!”

“Boys!” Jean interrupted, her forehead glowing. Both men fell silent, mouths open with unformed arguments. The whole room turned their attention to Jean. She spoke in a cold voice, her forehead gradually dimming. “We will decide as a _group_. The fate of the X-Men is _not_ going to be decided by individuals. I move we adjourn this meeting and give everyone the remainder of the day to think about it. Professor?”

“I think that is a wise decision, Jean.”

Cyclops and Gambit glared at each other with slightly less heat than before.

“Meeting adjourned,” the Professor announced. “Jean, I have something I need to discuss with you in my office.”

“In a moment, Professor.”

The Professor wheeled himself out of the room.

Jean stayed behind with her hand still on Cyclops’s arm. “Whatever decision we come to,” Jean said, “we can’t force anyone to register. We may have to leave that decision up to individuals.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Cyclops reproached. “It’s dangerous to have that kind of thinking around! There are _children_ here, Jean! Whatever we decide, we need them to make the responsible decision. We can’t afford to have rebels like him around, telling them it’s okay to be on the wrong side of the law!”

“You forget,” Jean said calmly. “We have been on the wrong side of the law, simply for _existing.”_

A melancholy calm settled over Cyclops. His shoulders sank. His head hung. “I just want to make things easier on us,” he said. “There’s been so much strife lately. If we could just show the public that we aren’t the bad guys…”

“I know, Scott.” Jean rested her head against his shoulder, pressed one palm to his chest. “I know.”

*

Johnny, Jubilee, Rogue, and Bobby were locked into a fiercely competitive game of Mario Kart when the adults filtered out of their meeting. Johnny was technically an adult, but also not technically an official member of the X-Men. He hadn’t been invited to the Serious Adult Meeting, but he’d been totally fine with that, since Mario Kart was way more fun anyway. Daisy sideswiped Bowser’s car and drove off taunting. Bowser spun out. Johnny cursed loudly. Cat!Peach drove peacefully past him. Rogue was smiling.

Gambit stalked into the room, glaring darkly. He passed the team of young adults on the couch and headed straight for the kitchen.

“Was that Gambit?” Bobby said distractedly. Rosalina had just fallen off of the track and was being placed back onto it.

“Remy?” Bowser drove into a wall. Johnny tore his eyes away from the screen to search for him. Bowser drove along the side of the wall very slowly, sparks flying from the edge of his car.

“You want us to pause it?” Bobby asked. Bowser had fallen to 8th place.

Johnny pushed up off of the couch. Jubilee craned her neck to see around him. Daisy edged in on the computer player in first place. “Nah,” he said, distracted. “It’s a crappy kart anyway.”

“You always say that when you’re losing,” Jubilee teased. “HA!” Daisy finished in first.

“How are you even _doing_ that?” Bobby complained. Rosalina was in 12 th.

“Lots and lots of practice,” Jubilee chirped.

Johnny poked his head into the kitchen. “Remy?”

Gambit’s back was turned. At Johnny’s voice, he flinched and looked slowly over his shoulder, a regretful, almost apologetic expression taking over his face.

Johnny took this as permission to approach. “What was that about?” he asked, purposely keeping his voice light. He could think of at least half a dozen things he might’ve been in trouble for.

“De Superhero Registration Act,” Gambit spat. “It’s been signed into law.”

“Oh.” Johnny stared blankly. “That.” He had no idea what that was.

“Dey want all supah-powered individuals tu register deir secret identities wit’ de govahment, so de govahment can have more control ovah deir activities. Sounds t’be lookin’ a gator in de mouth tu me.”

“Well, it’s not like we _have_ to, right?”

Gambit gave him a look. “Not unless we wan’ tu be on de wrong side of de _law_. _”_

“Johnny?” Jubilee poked her head in. “There’s a guest here to see you!”

“Okay,” Johnny called distractedly, stepping towards Gambit. “Is it really that bad? They’re not… They wouldn’t separate us, would they?”

Gambit entwined his fingers with Johnny’s. “Dey saw me on de news, mon ami. Ah almos’ destroyed de universe.”

“I know, but I _saved_ you. That has to count for something, right?” Johnny held Gambit’s hand tighter and stepped closer.

“Ah don’ t’ink dey see it dat way, mon amour.”

“Johnny!” Peter called from the doorway. “I fucked up.”

Johnny closed his eyes in deep annoyance and tried not to explode. “Can it _wait a minute?”_

Peter crossed the room, tense as an all-A student that forgot to study. “You know how Tony was talking about having me announce my secret identity on national television? –Well, uh, I turned him down. And, um. That Superhero Act thing? It went into law this morning.”

“Yeah, and?”

Peter played with his hands, biting his lip so hard it turned white. “Johnny, he knows who I _am.”_

“See?!” Gambit outbursted. “Dis is exac’ly why Ah don’ trust it.”

“So what?” Johnny asked, one step behind.

“Johnny,” Peter said desperately, “Tony Stark _knows who I am._ He _knows_ I’m Spider-man! I don’t know how he figured it out, something about traffic cameras, but unless he’s blabbed to anybody, you and he are the only people who know, and he just announced to the whole world that he’s behind the Act 100%. He’s gonna hunt me down, Johnny! Ohgod. I’ve pissed off Tony Stark.” Peter held his head between his hands and started hyperventilating.

The repercussions slowly dawned on Johnny as Gambit laid his free hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Don’ worry, mon ami. You are safe here. Fo’ de time bein’.”

Another thing occurred to Johnny. “Wait. Was that what that meeting was about?”

Gambit glanced at him. “De X-Men are undecided.”

“Ohgod,” Peter wheezed. “You guys are thinking about it. You guys are thinking about registering with the government. Ohgod. Tony’s gonna know I’m here!”

“Dere are ways outta dis mansion dat even de Professor doesn’ know about,” Gambit promised grimly. “If it comes down to me an’ Johnny spiritin’ you outta here, tha’s what we’re gonna do.”

“We?” Johnny said hopefully.

“Unless you wan’ tu register.” Gambit’s eyes flashed.

“What? No! That is— I don’t care. Everyone already knows who I am. Registering doesn’t mean _shit_ to me. But Peter is— you’re my best friend, Pete. I ain’t gonna leave you out to dry.”

“I pissed off Tony Stark,” Peter moaned.

Gambit’s eyes flicked over to Johnny. “Don’ take dis personally.” He placed both hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Look into my eyes, mon ami,” he said smoothly. A soft smile played across his lips. His irises glowed red. “It’s gonna be all right.”

Peter stared into Gambit’s eyes, spellbound. “But… Tony Stark… He’s mad at me, he’s-”

Gambit’s eyes glowed brighter. “Not gonna come aftah you,” Gambit soothed. “Whatevah happens, it’s gonna be all right.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, expression easing, “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I—I don’t know what I was so freaked out about.”

Johnny stared between the two of them, marginally offended.

Gambit released Peter’s shoulders and turned to Johnny. “So what do we do now?”

“Wait. You’ve been doing that to me _the whole time?!”_

“Not de _whole_ time-” Gambit tried.

“You’ve been _hypnotizing_ me?!”

“It was only tu calm you down.”

“So you _have_ been playing mind tricks on me?”

“Only when Ah didn’ know what else tu do!”

“You’ve been playing with my brain!” Johnny backed away a half-step.

“No.” Gambit stepped closer. “Ah been makin’ ya _feel_ bettah.”

“You—” A few scattered memories suddenly made way more sense. “That’s been one of your powers this whole time!”

“Johnny, please. Dat’s not how it works.”

“You hypnotize people to get your way!”

“Ah can _charm_ people, okay?!” Gambit clamped his hands around Johnny’s arms so he couldn’t run away. “Ah don’ know how, an’ Ah don’ know why, but Ah’ve always been able tu charm people into givin’ me what Ah want.”

“So this whole thing was…”

“Ah only charmed ya once!”

“Yeah, when?!”

“When Ah came in from de snow! An’ you was nervous, an’ Ah was cold, an’ Susan asked ya tu warm me up! Ah only evah wanted tu make things _easier_ for ya, Johnny!”

“How do I know you’re tellin’ the truth?!” Johnny tried to back away.

“Ah nevah woulda fallen in love with you if Ah’d jus’ been pullin’ your strings de whole time! An’ besides, it doesn’ last dat long! It only lasts a short time aftah mah eyes stop glowin’! Maybe a few minutes, a couple hours at most! Ya _always_ know when Ah be usin’ mah powahs, ‘cause mah _eyes_ glow!” His Cajun accent thickened the more upset he got. His voice quieted. “How many times d’ y’ remembah mah eyes glowin’, Johnny?”

“When…” Johnny felt dizzy. “Whenever I get scared, you… You love me?”

Gambit blinked in surprise. “Ya didn’ know?” He smoothed his hands down Johnny’s arms and held his hands gently. “Why d’ ya think Ah call ya ‘mon amour’?”

“I thought,” Johnny gulped. “I thought that was just… just something you called people…”

Gambit squeezed Johnny’s hands. “Ah’ve scared ya again.”

“You…” Johnny’s heart was pounding.

“You been scared’a fallin’ for me from de beginnin’,” Gambit said. “An’ Ah can’t blame ya.” He stepped closer. “Ah been scared too. But it’s too late for us, Johnny.” He reached up and stroked the side of Johnny’s face. “Ah think Ah been in love with ya since day one.”

“Um,” Peter said, “Should I leave?”

Johnny didn’t hear him. “You…” His brain had stopped working.

Gambit leaned closer, eyes fixed on Johnny’s mouth.

“You aren’t,” Johnny interrupted, afraid to look up, “charming me again, are you?”

“Look into mah eyes,” Gambit urged softly. “Are dey glowin’?”

Johnny’s eyes slowly tracked upward. “…No.”

“Den you know Ah’m not.”

Johnny hovered half an inch from Gambit’s face, their lips parted, nearly touching.

Peter awkwardly edged his way backwards out of the room. He noticed the three teenagers sitting on the couch with video game controllers. The trio seemed to have missed the entire conversation, and was happily tapping away at their buttons while a rainbow of bright, cheerful colors washed across their faces. One controller lay, abandoned, on the couch.

“Mind if I join in?”

Bobby patted the seat beside him. “There’s room for one more!”

Peter sat down and grabbed the extra controller. “Thanks. Peter Parker, by the way. I’m Johnny’s friend.”

“Nice tuh meetcha, Peter!” Jubilee said, zooming into first place again.

Peter took a moment to observe the characters on the screen. Rosalina was spinning out in 10th, Cat!Peach was moseying along in 4th, and Daisy was having a fierce battle with Baby Peach for first. A blue shell knocked Daisy back into second; she was passed by two people. But she easily took them out with red shells and edged back up on Baby Peach’s tail.

“Looks like I’ve got some competition,” Peter observed.

“You think you can take me?!” Jubilee challenged. A blue shell hit the three people crowded near the finish line. Cat!Peach calmly drove through the wreckage and finished in first.

Peter laughed. “Yeah. I think I can.”

The other players trickled across the finishing line. “All right, smartass.” Jubilee took them to the start screen. “You’re on!”

*

“As you all know,” Captain America announced to the group gathered in the small ramshackle living room, “we are all fugitives. Now is your last chance to back out. If any of you want to leave, and sign your names away to the government, now is your chance. If any of you leave, the rest of us will relocate, and all contact will be cut off. It’s nothing personal. It’s for our protection.” He glanced at Bucky. Bucky looked down, his mouth thinning to a grim line.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I fell on the wrong side of the law,” Ant-Man chipped in. “I’m still in.”

“I’ve been with you since we set out to get that Soviet pain-in-the-ass,” Sam said. “Hell if I’m gonna leave you now.”

“This is kinda fun,” Hawkeye said.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Wanda said.

“Doesn’t matter t’ me if I fall outside of American law,” Wolverine growled. “I’m Canadian.”

“Then it’s settled,” Cap said. “We’ll stay here for the night. But if any of you change your mind… You know where to find the door.”

There was a series of nods.

Bucky sighed heavily and followed Captain America into the kitchen. He was the only one who hadn’t spoken up. He’d been relatively quiet the entire trip so far, rarely ever voicing his own opinion. It was generally assumed that wherever Bucky went, Cap would follow, and vice versa.

The rest of the team sat quietly in the living room, processing the repercussions of their decision.

“I’m not sure if I’m worth all of this to you,” Bucky said.

Steve’s head snapped up. He glared at him. “You are worth _everything_ to me, Bucky.”

Because the house was otherwise silent, everyone could hear them.

Bucky sighed. “Steve, I’m not… That guy you knew, way back when… I’m not him.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice was cold steel. “I’m not the guy you knew back then, either. We’ve both changed, Buck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a broken laugh, “but _I’ve_ been brainwashed and turned into a _weapon._ _You’ve_ made new friends, formed a _superhero_ team, and saved the _world.”_

“Bucky, don’t you dare blame yourself for one minute for what happened to you. You had no choice.”

“Maybe I did, Steve. Maybe I turned on the United States and joined up with the Soviets by choice. Neither of us remember that. Neither of us was _there.”_

“Bucky, there are tapes of you assassinating everyone who worked on you. Everyone who tried to—to hurt you, and make you forget. You killed them all.”

“Maybe I just liked killing.”

“Or _maybe_ you’re stronger than you think, and _maybe_ you were fighting because you _remembered._ Because there is good so deep down in you that no amount of Soviet brainwashing could erase that from you.”

Bucky sighed. “Why do you do that, Steve? Why do you have so much faith in me?”

“Why don’t _you?”_ Steve argued.

Bucky made a frustrated noise. “Don’t you _see_ me?! I’ve _killed_ people! People you _knew!_ And I’m only one password away from doing it again, don’t you see that?! I’m dangerous! I’m a killing machine! I’m a _monster!”_

“You,” Steve said with a deadly level voice, “are James Buchanan Barnes. You have been with me through thick and thin since before most people alive today were _born._ And you’ve been through enough shit, Bucky. You deserve to be happy. I want to give you the chance to be _happy.”_

Bucky laughed brokenly. “You don’t know _shit_ about what makes me happy.”

“Try me,” Steve challenged.

There was an odd silence. Bucky sounded like he was smiling wryly. “Do you know what would’ve made your Bucky happier than anything else?” he said with a slight Brooklyn accent. “Do you _really_ know what your Bucky wanted?”

“To marry a swell dame and settle down in a nice neighborhood and have kids, Buck,” Steve answered automatically, like he thought this was a funny question. “That’s what everybody wanted.”

“What if I told you that was a lie?” Bucky asked. “What if I never wanted that?”

“I… I don’t understand.”

There was a gunshot outside.

“Everybody get down!” Cap ordered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! Sorry for the delay; Mom is still on crutches, and it looks like she's gonna be using them for at least another couple of weeks.

Susan had gone out for a late-morning patrol. She followed a spiral pattern outward from the house, just like she always did, keeping quiet and alert for anything suspicious. Usually, all she found were wildflowers, animal tracks, and maybe a few squirrels. It was rather peaceful, strolling through the woods all by herself. It gave her time to breathe.

Everything had been so topsy-turvy lately. The stable rug she’d built her life around had finally been yanked out from under her feet, and she’d been seeing everything in a new light ever since. Coming home had been the opposite of returning to the familiar; instead, she’d been thrown headfirst into a civil war of hero-versus-hero, a world where saving people without a permit might set her on the wrong side of the law, and to complicate matters further, she was developing an attraction to several people at once, most of whom would probably rebuff her if she ever gave voice to that attraction. It was better to quietly enjoy it and keep it to herself.

She was enjoying her view of a doe crossing a stream when she heard a twig snap. She whirled around and turned invisible.

Someone else was there.

*

Natasha Romanoff crouched behind a bush, on high alert. She swore she’d heard something. She glanced at the doe; it raised its head, tail up, and darted into the woods.

Natasha crept closer, careful not to make a single sound. All she saw were trees and vines and undergrowth, pleasant shades of green in the sunshine. The stream sparkled in the background. “I know you’re there,” Natasha said in her most threatening voice. “Come out with your hands up!”

She crept toward where she’d heard the noise, on high alert. The air shifted. Something was there.

Natasha squinted. There were two suspicious indentations in the ground, roughly the size of human feet. Natasha aimed her gun and shot.

Her bullet bounced off of seemingly thin air and ricocheted into a tree off to her left.

“If you show yourself,” Natasha said, “I promise I won’t kill you.” She readied her gun, glaring at the point in space where her bullet had just bounced.

Whoever it was, decided to run.

Natasha cursed and held a finger up to her ear. “I’ve got someone wearing camo tech at 41.6568, -77.3641. I’m in pursuit.” She dashed off after her invisible target.

The invisible person crashed through the underbrush on foot long enough for Natasha to get two more shots in. Both shots bounced off of an invisible shield. The invisible person paused for a split-second and disappeared.

Natasha sprinted after her target.

Far off in the distance, she saw grass bend, as though in the wind, but only in one narrow path about a foot wide. The target was traveling in a straight line. With any luck, they would lead her directly to their hideout.

*

Susan flung open the door, becoming visible once more. “Someone found us!” she announced frantically.

“We know,” Cap said. “We heard the gunshot. Everyone get ready.”

Various weapons were poised. The heroes backed into a circle, ready to fight.

“You okay?” Wolverine asked softly. His hairy arm brushed Susan’s.

“She didn’t hit me,” Susan responded quietly, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“She?” Ant-man asked just before Natasha sprinted into the clearing with war in her eyes.

“Natasha?!” Clint said, dropping his weapons.

“Traitor,” she said, slowing to a stop in their living room. One corner of her mouth was turned up victoriously.

“How did you find us?”

“Steve has a thing for rivers.” She nodded her head in his general direction. “We’ve been scouting them with drones.”

“Why have you come here?” Cap challenged.

“Why do you think?” Natasha answered. “Tony is looking for you.”

“You know we don’t want to hurt you,” Cap warned.

Hawkeye gave Cap a betrayed look.

“Well, as it turns out,” Natasha replied neutrally, “I don’t want to hurt _you,_ either.”

Hawkeye gave her a hopeful look.

Natasha placed her gun back in its holster.

“Cut the games, Nat,” Cap said. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I pay a little visit to my friends?” she asked innocently.

“She’s stalling,” Sam warned.

Natasha walked towards them. “Maybe I wanted to join,” she said.

The hopeful look on Hawkeye’s face kicked up a few notches.

“Or maybe,” Natasha said, coming to a stop in front of Hawkeye, “I don’t agree with either side, and I’m playing double agent.” She turned off her comm unit. “You never know.”

“Did you just tip off Stark that you found us?” Cap asked in a deadly voice.

“I may have… misled him, a bit,” Natasha said. “Just enough to give you time.”

“Why would you do that?” Cap demanded.

Natasha shrugged innocently. “Can’t a friend help a friend?”

“Don’t trust her, Steve,” Sam warned.

“I don’t,” Steve assured.

“Aw,” Natasha said, smiling. “You don’t trust me?”

“We should get out of here,” Sam warned.

“You shot me in the forest,” Susan pointed out. “Why should we trust you?”

Wolverine growled and flashed his claws.

Natasha flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Move somewhere else,” she instructed. “Stay away from the rivers. And I would highly suggest trading out your vehicles.”

“Why are you helping us?” Cap demanded.

“Or,” Natasha said, “You could stop fighting.” She scanned Hawkeye’s face.

“Never,” Steve vowed. He stood closer to Bucky.

Natasha sighed. “Steve,” she said, “we know how much Bucky means to you. But is he really worth all of this?”

“Yes,” Steve said without hesitation.

“She’s been stalling too long,” Sam warned. “We need to get out of here.”

“In a minute!” Hawkeye objected while the others lowered their weapons and started to come to the collective wary agreement that Natasha wasn’t going to hurt them. “Does this really mean I have to fight you again?”

“Clint,” Natasha said, “you knew we’d have to do that when we chose different sides.”

“But I don’t _want_ to fight you!”

Something whirred overhead.

“That’s not good,” Sam warned.

“Clint.” Natasha stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You _have_ to.”

“COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,” ordered a voice distorted by a megaphone.

Hawkeye regarded her, stricken.

Natasha slipped something into his hand.

“Yeah, that’s right!” agreed a rough voice with a thick Brooklyn accent. “Get out of there before we blow you out!”

“Easy, Rocket,” came Reed’s voice. “Give them a chance to get out peacefully.”

“Peaceful, my ass. I wanna blow ‘em sky high!”

“I. Am. Groot.”

“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE,” said the distorted voice through the megaphone. “IF YOU COME OUT NOW, WE WON’T HURT YOU.”

“Everyone get ready,” Cap ordered.

“Hold your fire!” Natasha ordered, stepping out of the house with her hands up. She walked towards the group which had emerged from the large aircraft, now parked on the rural front lawn. “They’re inside.”

“Natasha,” Tony said, lowering the megaphone, “Why did you turn off your comm?”

“To lull them into a false sense of security,” she said calmly, one hand on her hip.

“Why aren’t they outside yet?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha shrugged. “Scared, maybe?” She squinted up at the two heroes with jet packs, the very large anthropomorphic tree, and the stretchy supergenius.

“THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE,” Tony barked through the megaphone. “COME OUT, OR WE FIRE.”

Hawkeye and Ant-Man came out of the house with their hands up.

“Don’t shoot, man!” Hawkeye whined.

“WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?” Iron Man demanded. He trained a blaster on the house.

“It’s just us!” Ant-Man said, squinting up at them. “There _were_ no others!”

“Then it won’t matter if we blast that house behind you.” Iron Man turned to Rocket. “Blast ‘em.”

“With pleasure.” The raccoon grinned, pulled a pin out of the grenade he was holding, and hurled it towards the house.

The living room exploded.

Ant-Man turned to look over his shoulder, stricken, at the flaming remains of the house.

Iron Man hovered closer, training both hands on the house, blasters ready. “COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,” he demanded, his voice magnified by his suit.

No one emerged from the house.

Part of the roof caved in.

“I told you,” Ant-Man said, licking his lips nervously, “It’s just us.”

Iron Man looked around, angry, suspicious, and confused. His scanners indicated nothing but an empty field, an empty house, and some trees. He lowered himself to the ground in front of Ant-Man and Hawkeye, glaring at them through the suit. “Where is he?” he pressed.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Hawkeye said.

“You know _exactly_ who I’m talking about. _Where is he?”_

“We don’t know,” Ant-Man said.

Iron Man fired his blaster at the remains of the house, destroying it with his blue beam. The house collapsed in a smoldering pile.

“Fine,” Iron Man said. “You don’t want to tell me? We’ll take _you_ instead!”

Reed Richards stretched out to place handcuffs on Ant-Man and Hawkeye. Both looked duly stricken.

“Load them up,” Iron Man ordered.

They were roughly escorted on-board.

*

“Scott only gave me one of each,” Sam warned, “So we can only do this once.”

“Once is enough,” Cap said.

“Here we go…”

The van shrank down to the size of a cockroach.

“Susan?”

Susan nodded. The car, and everyone in it, turned invisible.

They heard an explosion.

Sam slammed his foot on the accelerator. The tiny, invisible van shot out through a hole near the floor, out into the grass behind the house. They sped off towards the woods.

At this size, every tiny imperfection in the ground was a huge hill. The ride was extremely bumpy, and in the back of the van, there were no seatbelts. Sam in the driver’s seat and Susan in the passenger’s seat were the only ones with seatbelts— or chairs, for that matter.

It took a lot of concentration for Susan to extend her invisibility to an object this large for so long. She’d only figured out how to do this recently.

“Hold steady,” Sam warned her. “We’re about to go over a huge hill.”

Susan braced herself.

The people in the back tumbled about in an awkward tangle, bumping heads and limbs. The only ones who remained relatively stable were Cap and Bucky, as Cap was positioned against a wall and holding Bucky in a cocoon of limbs, his shield out in front of them. Everyone back there had bumped some part of themselves on the vibranium.

“Everyone all right?” Sam called back.

“Ugh,” Wanda moaned. “My head.”

“We’re heading towards the riverbank. Should be smoother there.”

“How much longer?” Wolverine grunted, dislodging himself from between Cap and Bucky and a wall.

“As long as it takes,” Sam answered, flooring it.

*

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony barked the second he entered Stark Tower. “They can’t have gone far. Scan around 41.65, -77.36. Alert me of any anomalies.”

“Yes, sir,” the robot chirped agreeably.

“What are you gonna do with us?” Hawkeye asked. “Put us in prison or something?”

“You aided and abetted a known fugitive,” Tony said. “You have valuable information on their whereabouts. And there’s a chance that they might save you.”

“Pfft,” Ant-Man said. “Are you kidding? They’re not gonna save _us._ Why do you think we were left behind? We’re _expendable.”_

“Maybe,” Tony said. “But you know how they’ve been hiding.”

Ant-Man fought to keep his poker face. “Or maybe you’ve got the wrong guys, and they ditched us a long time ago.”

“Then who was using the camo tech?” Tony pushed, staring straight into Ant-Man’s eyes.

“That was me,” he fibbed. “And it wasn’t camo. I was just _really_ small.”

Tony leaned closer, almost nose-to-nose, intense. “That’s not what Natasha said.”

“Maybe it’s just me,” Hawkeye volunteered, “but I wouldn’t trust everything Natasha says.”

“Are you saying she _lied_ to me?” Tony turned his intense scrutiny on Hawkeye.

“I don’t know, man,” Hawkeye backpedaled. “Maybe you’d better ask _her.”_

“Ask me what?” Natasha posed calmly.

“When you said ‘camo tech,’ you meant a full-sized person was camouflaged, yes? And _don’t lie to me_ , Romanoff.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and nodded once.

Tony whirled on Hawkeye and Ant-Man. “And since neither of you has that tech, I’m guessing that was Reed’s runaway wife.”

“She’s not his wife anymore,” Ant-Man volunteered.

Hawkeye cringed.

Tony’s eyes lit up. “So she _has_ been working with you!”

“Everyone knows they’re getting divorced!” Ant-Man covered. “It’s in all the gossip rags. Pick up a magazine sometime!”

“I have _standards,”_ Tony scoffed.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “You only read magazines with your face on the cover.”

Rocket snorted in the background.

“But then why are you getting so defensive of her?” Tony pressed, cornering Ant-Man. “Blond hair, long legs, sweet pouty eyes. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she? Does someone have a crush on Susan?”

“Tony,” Reed warned. “Stop.”

_“Does_ he?” Tony pressed, getting uncomfortably close to Ant-Man.

“You’ve got the wrong guy.” Ant-Man turned his head to get further away from Tony’s face. “I have a wife. She just… won’t take me back.”

“But you wouldn’t exactly say no if Susan Storm threw herself at you, _would_ you.”

“Tony,” Hawkeye interrupted, “this is getting a little weird.”

“Yeah,” Ant-Man added, “I know Pepper left you, but isn’t it a little early to be drooling over another woman?”

Tony’s face shut down in a cold rage. “Lock them up.” He turned on his heel and left.

*

Just as Remy had said, Peter’s panic returned after a couple of hours. He and Johnny had been playing video games with Bobby and Jubilee, and Peter had been happy and calm, a little calmer than usual considering Peter’s awkward nature, but surely enough, as they neared the end of a battle minigame in Mario Party, Peter’s leg started to shake. His phone kept buzzing.

He checked it. His face paled. “What do I do?” he asked Johnny. “What do I tell her?! I was supposed to have a date tonight!”

“I don’t know! Tell her you have to cancel!”

“Johnny,” Peter whined, “You’re supposed to be good with girls.”

Johnny squirmed. “Yeah, good at getting into their _pants._ I’ve never _dated_ one!”

“Oh, let me.” Jubilee rolled her eyes and reached for his phone. She raised her eyebrows at the red-and-blue cover. “Very subtle,” she joked.

“Ohgod,” Peter worried. “What if she already knows?”

“So sorry about the date tonight,” Jubilee narrated as she responded to Gwen’s text. “Something came up. Will make it up to you, I promise.” She pressed send and handed the phone back. “There you go.”

Peter stared at the phone in bleak terror. “She’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Not if you say it nicely!” Jubilee picked her controller back up. “And you did. So she’ll be fine.”

Peter’s phone buzzed. Peter groaned.

Johnny sighed heavily and picked up Peter’s phone. “Okay,” Johnny read aloud. “That actually gives me more time to work on my report. It’s due tomorrow lol. I was just gonna stay up late and finish it after our date. Is everything okay? Do you need me to bring you something?”

Peter hid his head in both hands. “I don’t deserve her,” he groaned.

“Give me that.” Jubilee held out her hand. Johnny passed the phone over. Jubilee narrated, “Everything will be just fine. Again, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll see you soon. –Aaand, send!” She passed the phone back.

Peter groaned and rocked back and forth.

“Ugh,” Jubilee said. “Where’s Gambit when you need ‘im?”

Johnny rubbed his arm. “Uh.” He cleared his throat. “I _may_ have kind of… yelled at him for doing that… uh… _thing_ , earlier.”

“Doing what?”

“His… hypno-thing.”

Jubilee frowned. “You mean his charm? Johnny,” Jubilee chastised, sounding kind of hurt, “he’s been doing that for _ages.”_

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed. “Whenever someone’s really anxious, Gambit talks them out of it, and they feel fine.”

Johnny sank into his chair. “I thought it was just me.”

“What?” Jubilee squawked.

Johnny sank lower. “I thought… he was doing it to manipulate me…” He sank so low his back was flat against the seat. “…to make me like him?”

“You _told_ him that?!”

“…yeah…”

Jubilee stood and slammed her controller down on the couch. “Well, no _wonder_ he’s been making himself scarce! You really hurt his feelings!”

Johnny tried to make himself very small. He suddenly envied his sister’s powers. “We may have… talked it out?”

“You mean you _apologized?”_

“Uh…” Johnny blushed. “Kind of?”

_“Kind_ of?”

“Um.” Johnny rubbed his face with both hands. It was very hot. “He may have told me he loved me and he may have told me how to tell when he’s charming people and pointed out that he’s only ever done it when I was scared and I realized he was right and that I’ve been falling in love with him since the beginning even when he was so not himself he was barely coherent?” Johnny let out in one huge rush.

Jubilee blinked. _“Please_ tell me you told him that last part.”

“Um.” Johnny tried to make himself smaller. “Kind of.”

“UGH,” Jubilee groaned. “You boys are so hopeless!”

_“Tell_ me about it,” added Bobby.

“Oh no,” Jubilee said. “Not _more_ boy trouble?”

“I can’t tell if he likes me or not!” Bobby objected.

Jubilee gave him a look. “He texts you _all the time!”_

“Yeah, but he could just be really friendly!”

“He wears _skinny jeans!”_

_“Lots_ of guys wear skinny jeans!”

“Yeah!” Peter rejoined. Peter was, at that very moment, wearing skinny jeans.

“See?” Bobby said. _“He’s_ wearing skinny jeans, and _he_ has a _girlfriend!”_

“Ughhhhhh!” Jubilee groaned.

“Oh boy,” Kitty said, walking in with an orange creamsicle. “What have you done to Jubilee?”

“Boy problems,” Peter volunteered.

“Oh.” Kitty perched on the nearest armrest. “Wouldn’t know. I have a girlfriend.” She licked her creamsicle.

“So do I,” Peter had to say.

“Sometimes I wish I was gay,” Jubilee groaned. “Boys cause so much _drama.”_

“Uh, no,” Johnny argued. _“Girls_ are the dramatic ones!”

“There wouldn’t be so much _drama_ if boys would just _talk_ about their _feelings!”_ Jubilee argued.

“Feelings are hard to talk about!” Johnny objected.

“No they’re not!”

“Yes they are!”

“Johnny,” Peter interrupted, “you’re being kind of sexist.”

“Yeah!” Jubilee stuck her tongue out at Johnny.

Johnny blew a raspberry at Jubilee and crossed his arms.

“Oh,” Jubilee said, _“Really_ mature!”

“Oh,” Johnny mimicked badly, _“Really_ mature!”

Kitty licked her creamsicle, highly entertained.

“What’s all th’ ruckus about?” Rogue asked, wandering in with an armful of books.

“Battle of the sexes,” Kitty said, licking her creamsicle.

The four on the couch kept arguing until Storm came in and announced imperiously that there was a meeting in the common room. The group followed her; Johnny and Jubilee kept sticking out their tongues at each other and making stupid faces behind her back.

All of the adult X-Men were present. Gambit’s arms were crossed. He looked none too happy. Johnny forgot about his feud with Jubilee and made a beeline for Remy. As soon as Johnny was by his side, Gambit’s expression eased. He put an arm around Johnny’s waist and turned his attention to where Professor X waited in the center of the room.

Everyone settled into their places in the horseshoe around Professor X; chatter died down as the Professor nudged them all at once with his powers to stop talking.

Johnny snuck an arm around Remy’s waist and leaned his cheek against his shoulder. Remy glanced down at him and smiled.

The Professor glanced at the motion and started talking. “As you know,” he said, “The Superhero Registration Act was passed this morning. This means that all unregistered individuals with super-human abilities are in direct violation of the law and will be thrown in jail if they decide to keep using their powers. There is a one-month grace period before the government starts to arrest unregistered super-powered individuals. During this time, I would like all of you to register.”

Murmurs rose up. The Professor held up his hands to silence them. “I realize that this will be difficult for some of you, but it is important that we X-Men fall on the right side of the law. Mutantkind has been feared by the public for far too long. If we cooperate, the public may see it as a gesture of good faith. This may lead civilians to fear us less, and trust us more. Considering we are in the field of public protection, it has become clear that it is in our best interests to register.”

“An’ what if we _don’t?”_ Gambit interjected.

Johnny’s arm tightened around Gambit’s waist.

“If you do not register,” the Professor said, “that is your choice. But I am afraid you will no longer be affiliated with the X-Men.”

The murmurs erupted again.

“Fine by me,” Gambit said darkly.

Johnny gave him a worried, pleading look.

“I will be sending the government a request for the correct forms,” the Professor concluded. “They will be kept inside my office. I hope you will all give serious consideration to filling them out.”

“Consider it _considered,”_ Gambit growled.

After the Professor left, Johnny turned to Remy with concern. “Isn’t that what you _didn’t_ want to happen? You didn’t want to be taken away from your team?”

Gambit regarded him softly. “Ah choose my _own_ team, cher. Ain’t no one gonna boss Gambit around.”

“What’ll you do if they kick you out of the X-Men?” Johnny worried.

“Ah’ll fight with _you,”_ Gambit said. “An’ anyone else who wants tu join.” Gambit glanced over Johnny’s shoulder at Jubilee, who was watching them with her lips pressed together, and Peter, who stood nearby, pale and stricken.

“Well, you can count me in,” Ben said. He’d been standing nearby, somehow unnoticed despite being a gigantic orange rock formation. “I don’t trust the government much right now, ‘specially with nuts like Senator Kelly in charge.”

“But we _need_ you on the X-Men!” Jubilee objected.

“Seems ya did jus’ fine wit’ me gone.”

Jubilee bit her lip. She took half a step back.

The trio watched her.

It was too much pressure. “I—I gotta go.” Jubilee accelerated out of the room into a dead run.

The wind of Jubilee whooshing past him ruffled Peter’s hair. The trio turned their attention on Peter. Had he been capable of becoming any more pale, he would have, but instead, he wavered on his feet, opening and closing his mouth as though at a loss for words.

“Peter?” Johnny tried.

Peter shook his head, backed up, and ran after Jubilee.

*

Team Cap set up camp on the riverbank that night. Their stomachs were rumbling, but all they had was a stash of squashed granola bars which had been sitting in the back pocket of the passenger’s seat for who-knows-how-long. Despite the chill in the air, Cap warned them that they couldn’t make a fire tonight, because it would give away their position. So they huddled together in a circle, munching on their age-softened oats.

“Sorry I couldn’t provide better accommodations for the night,” Cap apologized.

“I’ve had worse,” Bucky volunteered.

Cap’s face fell.

Bucky nudged his shoulder. “Remember that one time, it was… 1936, and we ran out of matches? Had to huddle under that old quilt your ma made?”

“And the radiator was broke?” Cap’s eyes went misty. “Yeah. I remember, Buck.”

“The power was out,” Bucky elaborated. “Whole block was down. There was this big storm, snow up to here.” He held his hand level over the ground. “And your ma was home late from work.”

“So you stayed to keep me company.”

Bucky snorted. “I _stayed_ so you didn’t _freeze_ to death, you stupid ass. And it’s a damn good thing I did.”

“I thought you _enjoyed_ that sleepover,” Steve joked, only a little bit hurt.

“Enjoy sleeping next to this bag’a bones?” He poked Steve in the ribs. “There was an elbow in my ribs, frozen toes jammed up against my shin, and you snoring in my face all night with yer damn asthma!”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” Bucky mocked. “We got noise complaints from the downstairs neighbors!”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t because of the snoring.”

“No? Please enlighten me then.” Bucky’s tone was light, but he was frowning.

“It was because _your_ stupid ass thought it was a good idea to start telling me _jokes_ at two o’clock in the morning!”

“Right!” Bucky’s eyes cleared. He smiled. “And you snorted like a rhinoceros in labor!”

Steve smacked him.

“Man,” Sam murmured to Wanda, “I thought he was gonna go somewhere _totally_ different with that.”

“Same,” Wanda murmured back.

“Remember that one time,” Steve said, warming to the subject, “when we were stationed out in the Alps, and everyone had to share sleeping bags so we didn’t freeze to death?”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky frowned like he half-remembered. “And half the guys were like ‘hell no, I’m not sleeping with another dude.’ And the other half just didn’t care anymore.”

Steve nodded. “We were part of the half that didn’t care.”

Bucky’s smile faltered like that wasn’t entirely true. “Wasn’t like we’d never done it before,” he said, his voice oddly flat.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, his smile turning a bit bashful. He nudged Bucky with his shoulder. “Miss being close like that, sometimes.”

Bucky’s face fell. He went quiet.

Sam was watching them carefully.

Bucky backed out of the circle. “You wouldn’t want to be close to me anymore if you knew me, Steve.”

“Bucky.” Steve followed him. “I’ve read your file. I know… everything. What they’ve done. What you did. How you fought back.” He touched Bucky’s good shoulder. “To survive all of that, and regain your sense of self… You’re the strongest man I know.”

Bucky shrugged his hand away. “Why do you do that? Why are you always complimenting me? I’ve killed people with my _bare hands,_ Steve. I tried to _kill_ you. I still could. I just need to fall into the wrong hands, and… and it’s all over.” Bucky turned away.

“Buck.” Steve caught his wrist. “That’s why I’m here. I want to keep you safe.”

Bucky laughed bitterly. “Is that really why you’re here, Steve?” Bucky said. “Or is it because I’m the one piece left of your past, and you just don’t know how to let go?”

Steve swallowed.

Sam readied himself to interfere, if necessary.

“For a long time,” Steve began, “I felt out-of-place in this century. Everything… everyone I’d ever known was gone. For the longest time, I was searching for a place that I could call home. I thought I’d found it with the Avengers, but… When I saw your face…” Steve’s hand slid down to hold Bucky’s. “When I knew it was your face behind that mask, when I knew you were still alive… nothing else seemed to matter. Because it’s _you._ Because you’re still alive, somehow, impossibly, after all this time. I knew, as soon as I saw you, that I’d chase you to the ends of the earth to bring you home.”

“And where is ‘home’, Steve?”

“You, Buck.” Steve smiled sadly. “You _are_ my home.”

Bucky turned around slowly. He searched Steve’s eyes, weary and in pain. “Your home is a man you barely know?”

“A man I’ve _always_ known.”

“You don’t know me anymore, Steve.”

“But I want to.” Steve drew Bucky’s hand up and cupped it against his chest.

Bucky stared at his hand for a long moment, eyebrows creased, before he looked up at Steve. “Y’know, Rogers,” Bucky joked weakly, with a wobbly smile, “A guy could get the wrong idea, you holdin’ my hand and talkin’ this way. You sweet on me, Rogers?”

“Bucky…”

Bucky stared at him, his hand trapped against Steve’s chest.

Steve looked away. The group couldn’t see his face. When he turned back to Bucky, he took a deep breath, smiled ruefully, and said, “Always have been, Buck.”

“You fucking idiot.” Bucky kissed him.

*

“Well,” Ant-Man said, sitting in the cell next-door to Hawkeye’s, “This seems pretty hopeless.”

“Sure does,” Hawkeye agreed.

“Stark really caught us this time,” Ant-Man said. “There’s no way out of this one. We are trapped.”

“Absolutely and positively,” Hawkeye agreed, working the tiny pin through the lock on his wrist.

“If only there was some way to escape,” Ant-Man bemoaned. “But no. We are gonna be trapped in this basement forever.”

“Forever and ever,” Hawkeye agreed. His cuff popped free.

“Quit the drama, you two,” Natasha said, standing in front of their doors. “The cameras will only be out for thirty seconds. It’s now or never. I can’t give you a second chance.”

Hawkeye unlocked his other cuff. Ant-Man squeezed his hand shut and shrank. He pressed the button on his waist and grew again, crossed the cell, shrank, exited the cell, and grew again. Hawkeye finished picking the lock on his door and shut it behind him.

The lights at the end of the hallway flickered back on.

Natasha dove out of the room and waited in the doorway, out of the sightline of the cameras in the prison section. Ant-Man and Hawkeye sprinted past her.

Natasha waited thirty seconds before strolling into the prison section. She arranged her face into one of surprise and anger. She rushed down the hallway in the opposite direction of her escaped prisoners and pressed a finger to the comm unit in her ear. “The prisoners have escaped! Repeat, the prisoners have escaped!”

An alarm went off. Red lights flashed. A screechy noise blared over and over.

Ant-Man shrank himself and Hawkeye, snuck under a closing door, and sped out onto the balcony. Hawkeye aimed a grappling-hook arrow at the nearest building. When he felt it catch, he told Ant-Man to “Hang on!” before swinging across the street like Tarzan. They crashed into the window, bounced off of it, and Ant-Man broke out his climbing gloves. Hawkeye hung off of him piggyback style as Ant-Man scaled the building.

Meanwhile, back at Stark Tower, Tony was demanding to know how they managed to escape. He had J.A.R.V.I.S. scan for the fault in his technology. He was convinced that he’d been hacked; he just wasn’t sure by who.

Natasha pretended to be genuinely helpful.

Tony sent out another call to scour the city.

And in the midst of all this, Reed Richards stood quietly, wondering if he’d done the right thing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! My mom is off crutches!  
> She still needs a lot of help around the house, but her knee is doing better, for the moment.

“Okay, so,” Clint said, startling six people who all raised weapons and prepared to shoot him, blast him, or tear him to shreds. Clint raised both hands and kept talking. “The good news is, I managed to fetch our costumes. And I’m guessing you guys did _not_ hear the motorbike. We got that too.

“The _bad_ news is, our old hideout is totally kaput. That raccoon guy blasted it to bits. R.I.P., kitchen with a freezer full of frozen pizza.” Clint made a solemn face and crossed himself tragically. “But the _good_ news is the box of chocolate chip cookies was fine! But the bad news is, well, Scott and I were kinda hungry after escaping from the city and making it all the way back out here without stopping so… the chocolate chip cookies are gone.”

Steve stood up, set his shield aside, and strode straight towards Clint Barton.

Clint backed away half a step, eyes wide.

Steve didn't slow; he enveloped Clint in a very muscular hug.

Clint awkwardly patted him on the back. “Hey there, buddy.”

Steve gave him a squeeze, then backed away, hands lingering on Clint’s biceps. His expression carried great depth of sincerity. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Good to _be_ back, Cap.”

Ant-Man stumbled into the clearing, carrying two grocery bags full of clothes. “Hey guys!” He held up the grocery bags victoriously. “Didja miss me?”

“Please tell me that’s food,” Bucky said.

Ant-Man lowered the bags. His face fell.

“How did you escape?” Wanda asked.

Clint grinned, sat down, and slapped his thighs. _“Well…”_

*

Things only ever seemed to go from bad to worse for Reed Richards. After yet another long day of difficult decisions with questionable moral outcomes, another day of watching Tony Stark fly just a little further off the wires, Reed found himself being contacted by an unknown number. Dread spread its icy tendrils through his gut. He knew the area code. There were only two possibilities; neither were favorable. He almost didn’t answer it. He could have let it ring, could have let the mishap of fate swoop right past him, but instead, he did the honorable thing, and answered. “Hello?”

“Mister Richards. Please meet me at these coordinates at 2250. There’s been an emergency.” She gave the coordinates, and warned him, “Bring an umbrella,” and then hung up.

If he’d been a little more like Johnny, he might have been able to shirk the responsibility and pretend she’d gotten the wrong number. He could have fallen asleep and ignored her. For all she knew, after all, he could be busy— and he had been _very_ busy.

But because Reed Richards always tried to do the right thing, even when he knew it would end badly for him, he wrote down the coordinates, programmed them into his private jet, and headed straight for the rendezvous point.

While he flew, he contemplated the nature of the emergency. He had not recognized the female voice on the other end of the line. She could be sending someone to tell him that there had been another anomaly caused by the rift; she could be going there herself. Perhaps something had happened to Susan. She could be injured, or dead. Perhaps she had been found.

It even occurred to Reed that the mysterious woman on the phone could be sending Reed to rendezvous with his own murderer.

And yet, bravely, Reed flew on, into the thick pinewood forest, the nearest town over fifty miles away. He landed his plane in the dark and stepped out into the wilderness. In the dimness of the cloudy night, he could just barely make out the blond woman waiting with a pleasant-yet-stony expression.

“Mister Richards,” she greeted. The timbre of her voice was warm, but her tone was grave. “We realize it must have been a difficult decision for you, to decide to work on the collars. S.H.I.E.L.D. is grateful that you did. However, it would appear that even out of the ashes that our new and improved S.H.I.E.L.D. rose, a few cockroaches still remained.” She narrowed her pretty mouth. “Your collars have been stolen.”

“My… what?” Reed frowned. “I never agreed to that.”

She turned slightly to the side, pretty brows furrowing. “I have it under good authority that you did. We wouldn’t have moved forward with the project without your permission.”

“Project? What project?”

“You weren’t briefed?” The pretty blond woman’s frown deepened. “The collars… S.H.I.E.L.D. asked you to improve them so that they could contain and cancel out _any_ super-powers, regardless of their origin.”

“Yes…?”

Her eyes darted across his face. “…They were mass-produced as soon as you agreed to work on the project. There are _thousands_ of them.”

Reed paled. “And they’ve been stolen.”

The wind kicked up, blowing her honey-blond hair upward in an unearthly manner. Leaves spiraled up out of the clearing. “Yes,” she said.

“…How do I know I can trust you?”

The blond woman held his gaze, a firmness forming behind her eyes as she considered him. “My name is Sharon Carter,” she answered. “My aunt Peggy founded S.H.I.E.L.D.. And I’m trying to keep it the way she would have wanted it.”

Lightning flashed.

In the brief second that Sharon’s face was illuminated, the firmness there filled Reed with trust. He could almost see the ghost of Peggy Carter infusing this young woman. “All right,” Reed said. “What do we do?”

“Is there any way to deactivate the collars?”

“The only way I know of is to use a key,” Reed said. “But… the keys were stolen months ago. I have no idea where they are.”

Sharon nodded. Thunder cracked.

Reed narrowed his eyes. “How did you know the collars were stolen?”

“The same way most of us found out: the alarm went off.”

“Do you know who did it?”

Sharon shook her head. “It must have been a mole. The cameras were hacked.”

“Couldn’t a talented thief hack those cameras?”

She smiled tightly. “Not at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

The wind picked up again, carrying cold raindrops with it.

“I still have the prototype in my lab,” Reed shouted over the wind. “I should be able to figure out the code. All the collars were virtually the same. If I can crack one, I should be able to crack them all.”

“Do that, Mister Richards,” Sharon said, backing away. “Your friends are counting on you.”

“Wait!” Reed called after her. “How do I contact you?”

She smiled over her shoulder as she climbed into her private jet. “You have my number.”

*

Sleeping out under the stars was cancelled, thanks to the now-raging thunderstorm which rocked the crowded van. Rain pelted the roof like steel bullets. Lightning flashed twice a second. Sam sat wide-awake in the driver’s seat, keeping first watch. Clint snored in the passenger’s seat with his bow and one arrow in his lap. Scott had made a nest for himself in the glove box; he was curled up in someone’s gloves.

In the back of the van, Steve and Bucky were huddled against one wall, Steve’s shield providing them a small amount of privacy. Bucky’s arms were around Steve’s ribs, his flesh hand resting peacefully on Steve’s chest, one knee nestled between Steve’s legs. Bucky’s back was turned to the rest of the van. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Steve’s cheek rested against the top of his head; he slept just as peacefully.

Wanda sat with her back against Clint’s seat, practicing something with her powers. Her hands kept glowing with a gentle red light; her face was creased with concentration. She seemed to be trapping bubbles of air and then setting them free.

Logan sat with his back against the door, frowning out the windshield. Occasionally, his gaze flicked to what Wanda was doing. He seemed content to watch the storm.

Susan was curled on her side, with her head resting near Wanda’s knee. She tried hard not to nudge the former Soviet assassin with her feet. He seemed a hundred times happier and calmer than any of them had ever seen him, ever since that moment earlier with Steve; a tension had been lifted from the air, and the whole group had been in better spirits for it. But Susan had seen Bucky stare at each of them like he was ready to murder them on the spin of a dime, and Susan wasn’t ready to bet that his murderous tendencies were gone. She shifted again, carefully, rolling over and attempting to form a pillow with her arms.

Logan’s gravelly voice punctured the silence: “You can come over here if you like.”

Susan raised her head.

Logan glanced down at her. “Havin’ trouble sleepin’?”

She sat up carefully and rubbed her eyes. Every inch of her was sore. “Yeah.”

Logan opened his legs and spread his arms as much as the van would allow him. “Might be comfier than the floor,” he offered.

Susan eyed his barrel-chest; curly black hairs peeked over the top of his white tank top. It certainly looked welcoming. Susan bit her lip and cautiously rotated so that her back was facing Logan. She watched him as she leaned into the makeshift chair he’d provided.

Logan smiled down at her. He nodded his chin up at the windshield. “Got a great view of the storm.” Curiously, though, he had stopped watching it.

“Yeah,” Susan agreed, getting a little lost in the cobalt and silver and gunmetal-gray of his irises. The repeated lightning strikes combined with Wanda’s intermittent red glow, causing hues of lilac and violet to dance in those eyes.

“Figured it’d be a shame if I kept it to myself.” One side of his mouth was curled up in a little smile. His mouth was surrounded by blue-gray stubble. Susan’s forehead was almost close enough to touch it.

He smelled of engine oil and cigarettes and leather, and under that, something masculine and animalistic— something about his scent had goosebumps running all up and down her arms. Her entire side was curled against his front, and her knee was nudging his thigh, her cheek resting against his collarbone, and yet, despite the contact, she found herself yearning for more.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You cold?” His eyes twinkled. He leaned forward, took off his black leather jacket, and draped it around her shoulders. “Here. This should help.”

Susan drew the jacket closer around her shoulders. She was finding it very hard to tear her eyes away from his face. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He smiled at her. “Now get some sleep.”

Logan tore his eyes away from Susan and returned his attention to the view outside the windshield. Clint had slipped down in his seat, letting his bow droop so far it almost knocked against Sam’s shoulder. Wanda had quit messing with her powers and now seemed to be meditating. Steve and Bucky slept on.

Susan curled closer against Logan’s torso, making herself comfortable. In this cramped van, in the darkness of the night, no one would judge her. She closed her eyes.

Logan waited for Susan’s breathing to go steady and even before he let himself relax. It was hard not to lose himself in the silky oat-and-honey of her hair, the sweet familiar comfort of vanilla and the delicate hint of Chanel No. 5 she always carried with her. He’d had to fight himself ever since she’d curled up against his chest. Now was not the time to frighten her off. Although his heart thundered with a power to match the storm, flooding his veins with heat, he was determined not to let his possessive side show. He had no business asking anything of Susan Storm. She had just lost her team, was going through a divorce, and had been thrown headlong into this absurd superhero war. Being with another man was probably the _last_ thing on her mind.

Logan threaded his fingers carefully through her hair. The gentle waves flowed through his fingers like silk. He did not notice that Wanda was watching him.

Susan had shown great resilience since she’d joined their team. Although she must be quaking apart inside, she never let her inner turmoil show. Whatever Cap asked, Susan was always ready; she took care of them almost as a mother would. Logan thought that maybe she was used to this, to always putting her team first. From their few brief talks together, it certainly seemed that way.

He admired her bravery. She held it together so well. Recent events must be bothering her; even in her sleep, her brows were puckered, her mouth downturned. Logan rested his cheek against her temple and allowed his fingertips to graze her scalp; he wished he could soothe those worry lines away. A woman as pretty as Susan deserved to face the world with a smile.

_I’m no good for her,_ he thought wryly. Any woman he’d ever been with would tell her he was trouble. And he knew it, too; he had more baggage than the brainwashed ex-Soviet curling his fingers into Captain America’s collar. He had more memories than the two of them put together. Unlike some super-soldiers, Logan had never been frozen. He had _lived_ through all those years while Cap and Bucky slept on. And those years had gone by anything but smoothly.

A particularly loud thunderclap caused Susan to flinch and curl further into him. He raised his eyebrows and held back a chuckle. “You scared?”

Susan didn’t answer; she seemed to be asleep.

Logan smiled tenderly down at her. He shifted his limbs, as though to protect her from the howling storm.

Susan’s forehead smoothed out.

Familiar pain gripped Logan’s chest. Gravity had drawn his gaze to her again; magnificent as the lightning was, his gaze kept falling from the window. A lightning bolt accompanied his flash of clarity.

Unbeknownst to him, Wanda was his silent witness. She saw the realization dawn on Wolverine's face.

She extinguished the glow of her hands. 

The back of the van went dark.

*

Morning dawned gently upon Team Cap, with sunshine and birdsong. Dew glistened on the nearby grass. Individual blades dipped and sprung back each time they were hit with water drops from above. The creek flowed higher than it had before, trickling by mere inches from where the van sat, parked. In the van, nearly everyone had woken up.

Bucky was stubbornly pretending he was still asleep. Steve watched him with such deep contentedness that no one dared talk to him and break the spell. Steve’s shield leaned against the wall near his head, glinting in the morning sun.

Wanda silently observed the pairs cuddled in the back of the van.

Logan had been awake since the first light of dawn, but Susan had slumbered peacefully on, curled against him like she belonged there. Her head was heavy on his chest, and his arm had fallen asleep hours ago, but he had remained stone-still, his chin resting gently in her hair.

Clint had been edging the tip of his bow closer and closer to Sam’s shoulder just to see if he would notice. Considering Sam was asleep, it seemed unlikely that Sam would budge, unless his latent military reflexes kicked in. The bow was a scant two millimeters from Sam’s shoulder when Sam suddenly woke with a snort. He looked around, frowning.

Clint quickly withdrew his bow and covered his smile.

Sam stretched. “Everyone awake?”

“Mostly,” Clint answered. “Got a couple stubborn ones back there.” He gestured with his bow.

“Shhh,” Steve said quietly. “Let him sleep.”

The furrow between Bucky’s eyebrows smoothed. He shifted slightly, cuddling closer to Steve. Steve’s face softened faster than butter on a hot stove.

“You know he’s just faking,” Clint pointed out.

Bucky frowned in his ‘sleep.’

Steve tightened his hold protectively and frowned at Clint.

“Let ‘im sleep,” Sam said. “We’ve got at least two people here with a super appetite, and last night, we ate the last of our granola bar stash.”

“Good thing, too. Those things were _nasty,”_ Clint said.

“Nasty or not, that was our only food.” Sam opened the door. “We’ve gotta find some more.”

“What are we gonna do?” Clint wondered aloud. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. And we’re literally the size of _ants._ It would take like, three weeks to get to the nearest town!”

“We’re gonna have to forage.” Sam exited the van.

“Aw, you mean like nuts and berries?” Clint opened his door too. “But, wait, won’t they be like, five times our size?”

“That’s the good news: we don’t have to find very much,” Sam pointed out. “A little goes a long way.”

“Har har. But how do we know if they’re poisonous? Sharon cut off our internet!”

“Well,” Sam said, “If you’re so concerned, _you_ could test them.”

Clint’s hand flew to his chest. “Me?! The only guy here without superpowers?”

“Excuse me?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“You have that-” Clint gestured. “-jetpack thingy!”

“Doesn’t count.”

“But you can _fly!”_

“And you think _flying_ will save me from _food poisoning?”_

“So you _do_ think some of them will be poisoned!”

The bickering outside caused Susan to stir. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Logan teased.

Susan looked up at him in surprise. Then she looked down at the black leather jacket around her shoulders. “Was I here all night?!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “That a problem?”

“What?!” Clint was saying. “That does _not_ look edible!”

“Sure it does!” Sam said cheerfully. “Use your imagination.”

“Oh god,” Clint groaned. “You’re gonna kill us.”

“What are they arguing about?” Susan asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“I think they’re trying to find food.” Logan helped her sit up.

Susan’s stomach growled. “Food… We don’t have any, do we.”

“Nope. Ate it all last night.”

Susan groaned and attempted to smooth her hair. It was mildly frizzy. The flyaways glowed like a halo.

“You still cold?”

Susan yawned. She realized what Logan was asking and took off his jacket.

Logan stilled her hand. “Keep it.”

She shot him a questioning look.

Logan’s eyes softened like snow melting on the first day of spring. He smirked, as though to consciously cover up this expression. “Looks good on you.” He squeezed her shoulder and got up. “I’m gonna go help those bozos out there before they poison us all to death.” He opened the back door to the van and hopped down.

Susan watched him stride confidently across the rocky riverbank, through patches of sunlight and shade. He crossed his arms and asked what all the racket was about.

Wanda quietly observed Susan watching Logan. Her eyes tracked the way Susan tugged the borrowed jacket closer.

Logan led the other two off to the left. He was smiling.

*

 “This is your last chance, Charles.” Magneto’s voice boomed throughout the room. “Join me, or you will be seen as a common enemy.”

“You know I can’t do that, Erik.” Professor X turned his back on the calling screen.

“You contradict yourself, Charles. You say you want what is best for mutantkind, and then you ignore that when you are in dire need of action.”

“What is best for mutantkind is to obey the law, and to achieve peace so we can live peacefully alongside humans. You know that.”

“You are wrong. The way to achieve peace is not through bowing to them like a dog. We need to _stand up_ for ourselves.”

“I see signing our names as a way of ‘standing up.’ We are showing them that we are not afraid.”

“You are playing right into their hands! Wake up, Charles! _Look_ at yourself! You and your X-Men exhaust yourself daily, fighting ‘safety measures’ sent out by the very government to which you sign yourself over! These Sentinels are killing us by the dozens! They murder us without discretion, based _only_ on the fact that we are _mutants._ Is that not warning enough?”

“It is a signal that something needs to change.”

_“Yes,_ Charles! They need to _fear_ us! They need to _understand_ our power!”

“I agree that they need to _understand_ us, Erik, but what good will fearing us ever do?”

“If they _fear_ us, they will not _underestimate_ us!” Magneto slammed one fist into his open palm. “We will be slaves to their will no longer!”

“We are no one’s slaves but our own.”

“Attempting to be profound in the face of being wrong?”

“Erik… We are slaves to our own plight. You have your shackles… and I have mine.” The professor turned away from the screen again.

“Is this about what happened all those years ago?”

“Did you think I’d forget it?”

“Charles… I forgave you long ago. This is not the first time I have offered you my hand. But I implore you, Charles, for the sake of our people- we _must_ join forces! It is the only way.”

“The only way for _what,_ Erik?” Professor X held his head in his hands. “For you not to kill me?”

“You know that was never my plan.”

“But it could happen.”

Magneto remained silent.

The professor sighed. “You know I… don’t want to hurt you.”

“I do not want to hurt you either, Charles. I am not suggesting that you and I will become enemies. I am only worried that if you do not join me…” Magneto’s voice trailed off. His face steeled. “You are _weak,_ Charles! Weak and _stubborn!”_ He slammed his fists on an unseen surface. He paced. “You think that you and your X-Men can defeat any odds, but you are too few in number! Take an honest look at yourself, Charles. Look at your school. You have only twenty students, and fewer teachers. Your team exhausts themselves every day. Your students have barely had time to learn, between losing their teachers to the battlefield, and being on the battlefield themselves. How are you supposed to progress? How would _anyone_ feel safe joining your school after recent events? Mutants flock to Genosha every day in droves, seeking refuge here. Tell me, Charles, how many have recently flocked to your school?”

Professor X kept his back turned; his frown deepened. “My school and its pupils are none of your concern, nor should they be anyone else’s. My only wish is to live in peace.”

“Dammit, Charles! That is what I am trying to accomplish!”

“And you are doing it wrong.”

Magneto yelled and punched something off-screen. It shattered. “Your stubbornness will be your downfall!”

“And your violence shall be yours.”

Magneto snarled and cut off the connection.

Professor X raised his head, stared into the distance, and raised his chin. A single tear fell down his cheek.

*

“The collars,” rasped a stricken Reed Richards, falling to his knees. “The collars are gone.”

“The collars which we engineered to help our beleaguered X-Men when they were struck with cosmic radiation and imbued with powers nearly identical to your own?” asked Hank McCoy, for clarification.

“Yes.” Reed hung his head.

“How troubling.” Hank’s furry blue eyebrows furrowed. A thoughtful hand was brought up to his chin. “It seemed likely, after they were stolen by Mystique, that they would resurface. But what do you mean, they were ‘stolen’?”

Reed sighed, hating himself. “Someone sold them to S.H.I.E.L.D., and the former director asked me to work on them, in order to make them cancel out _any_ superpowers, regardless of origin. I was going to turn them down, but an agent contacted me last night and notified me that not only have the prototypes been stolen, they’ve been… duplicated. There are _thousands_ of them.”

“My, my. This is troubling indeed!” Hank stroked his chin. “And I presume we do not know the whereabouts of the thief?”

Reed shook his head. “No, we don’t know who stole the collars, or why. All we know is they’re missing.”

“I see.” Hank paced with his hands linked behind his back. “Troubling indeed…”

“I didn’t know who else to turn to,” Reed confessed. “I’ve been working with Tony, but- he’s gone so deeply into his feud with Captain Rogers that I fear his judgment has been compromised.”

“You did the right thing,” Hank assured him. “Now the only puzzle is how to deactivate the collars before they cause much harm.”

“Is there any hope?” Reed pleaded. “You helped me design them. Is there any way that we could deactivate them all remotely, without them ever being found?”

Hank stroked his chin. “It would be difficult. We do not know their whereabouts, or how many there are. But perhaps, if we had one- an original- we could tune into its frequency and hope that the others are on the same wavelength.”

“There’s one in my laboratory,” Reed volunteered.

Hank frowned. “In your place of residence? That does not seem safe at all!”

“I know.” Reed cast his gaze downward. “I didn’t know where else to put it.”

Hank narrowed his mouth grimly, but shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. As long as it is safe. Please, if you could retrieve it… Perhaps there is something we could do.”

*

Peter was freaking out again. He was babbling about a call he’d received from Aunt May, asking him to bring home a carton of eggs, and he’d done what they’d asked- he’d told her he was staying with Johnny for a few days and working on a project- but he feared Aunt May was becoming suspicious, and he was getting anxious about lying to her and coming up with excuses.

Annoyed and frustrated, Johnny threw his hands in the air and asked what he was supposed to do.

Peter teared up and said something about Johnny being his friend.

They’d been going at it for about ten minutes, and Rogue had gone from annoyed to worried. She slid a bookmark into her book, closed it, and set it down. She approached Gambit. He was sitting across the room, reclined in a chair, with one knee up, idly shuffling cards. Rogue crossed her arms and frowned at him. “How c’n you just sit there while they argue like that?”

“Years of practice, cher.” Gambit didn’t even look up.

“Can’t you _do_ somethin’? Work your mojo on ‘im and calm ‘im down?”

“He’ll calm down on his own.”

“What’s th’ _matter_ with you?! Do you not like ‘im or somethin’? He’s been panickin’ almost non-stop fer _two days!”_

“See, cher, de magic word dere is ‘almos’.”

_“Almos’_ ain’t good enough! He’s givin’ me a headache!”

“Den why don’chu read somewhere else.” Gambit idly rearranged his cards.

“Why can’t _chu_ work yer powers on ‘im? You got yer ass glued t’ that seat?”

“Look, cher.” Gambit squared his deck. “Ah’d love tuh help, but Ah t’ink Ah’ve caused enough trouble. Gotta lay low fo’ a while.”

“Is this because Johnny yelled at’chu fer usin’ yer powers?” Rogue accused.

Gambit looked away.

Rogue made a frustrated noise. “Fer cripe’s sake, Gambit! Just _talk_ to him about it!”

Gambit made no move to get up.

Rogue had had it up to here. She balled one fist in his collar, hauled him up off his lazy ass, and dragged him across the room, surprised expression and all. Yeah, he was considerably heavier and stronger than she was, but _no one_ messed with the girl who could drain someone’s life with the touch of her hand. She marched him right up to his stupid boyfriend and poked that idiot in the chest. “Apologize!”

Johnny spluttered. “For what?!”

“You made ‘im feel bad about helpin’ people with his powers! Apologize _right now_ or so help me, Ah’ll-!”

“Okay, okay! Jeez!” Johnny flinched away from her. From the look on his face, he was still clueless, but at least he was clueless and motivated. He stood self-consciously. “Uh… That thing the other day with Peter? That… It wasn’t so bad, okay? I… uh, didn’t realize you were… …yeah.”

Rogue facepalmed.

“It’s all righ’, cher.” Gambit sounded guilty. “Ah shoulda told you from th’ start. Ah nevah wanted you tu believe Ah was manipulatin’ ya. Ah only wanted tu help.”

“I know.” Johnny sounded ashamed. “I mean, I know that _now.”_

Gambit reached out and grazed Johnny’s chest with his fingertips. “Ah nevah wanted tu hurt ya.”

Johnny looked cowed. “I know.”

Gambit stepped closer. “Do ya wan’ me tu help your friend?”

Johnny shuffled his feet. “…He is kind of getting really annoying.”

“Hey!” Peter objected.

Gambit’s face softened. “Only if ya wan’ me to, cher.” He smiled gently at Johnny.

Johnny stepped aside to grant him access. The motion brought him shoulder-to-shoulder with Gambit, whose hand trailed down Johnny’s arm to catch his hand. Their fingers intertwined. Johnny’s face glowed pink.

Gambit gave Johnny a reassuring smile before leaning down to speak to Peter. “You in need ’a some help, mon ami?”

“I’ll say! Tony Stark knows my secret identity, _who knows_ who else he’s told, Aunt May and Gwen _still_ don’t know, I feel _awful_ that I was able to tell Johnny and not them, I’ve been lying to Aunt May for _years_ now, and the past week has been the _worst,_ I’m basically trapped here until things blow over with Tony, so I have to _keep_ lying to Gwen and Aunt May-!”

“Shhh, shhh.” Gambit’s eyes glowed. “Is gonna be all right, mon ami.”

“How do I know that?! How do I know some government goons aren’t gonna track down Gwen or Aunt May as soon as they figure out my secret identity? The Superhero Registration Act has been signed into law, and I’m on the wrong side of it! If I register, it’s all out in the open, and then I _have_ to tell Gwen and Aunt May, and I don’t know if I can do that! I’ve been keeping it a secret from them this whole time to keep them safe! Them, and Harry, and MJ, and the pizza guy, and, and-!”

“Shhhhh,” Gambit soothed. He sat down next to Peter, still holding Johnny’s hand. With his free hand, he pet Peter’s hair, much the way one would stroke a nervous cat. “You don’ gotta tell anyone till you’re ready.”

“But what if I’m _never_ ready?!”

“Den you don’t nevah gotta tell ‘em.” Gambit kept petting Peter’s hair. His gaze flicked to Johnny to check and make sure he was okay.

Johnny was watching him with an open, vulnerable expression. He startled slightly when their eyes met. He tried to close himself off and recover his composure, much like a cat.

Rogue found herself thinking how they were both kinda cat-like: Gambit with his moves and agility, and his reluctance to trust people; Johnny all jumpy and always pretendin’ like he meant to do something. Rogue thought it was kinda funny.

Gambit kept soothing Peter, and Peter kept gradually calming down. Rogue left them to curl up in her corner once more and take up her book.

When Rogue peeked over the cover a few minutes later, the three of them were all sitting on the couch, with Johnny in the middle. She couldn’t quite make out Peter’s face, given the angle and the glasses and all, but he seemed a lot quieter, and Johnny and Gambit were lookin’ at each other all moony-eyed. Rogue smiled to herself and brought her book back up and kept reading.

*

Team Cap spent another night on the riverbank, half a day’s travel further down the river, with a raspberry strapped to the roof of their van. Logan had warned them that leaving the sweet fruit out in the open would attract animals, and Scott had promised to provide a container for it; this ‘container’ turned out to be a dome made of Pym-enlargened rocks. Scott had proudly smacked his hands together, ridding them of imaginary dust, and gestured to his creation, about two seconds before it collapsed. Ever since then, he and Wanda had been working to cement the rocks together with mud.

Bucky had gotten hungry, so Cap had taken down the raspberry, set it on a leaf, and broken off a segment. The others had wandered over to take segments for themselves. Sam, ever the voice of reason, had warned them not to eat all of it- “Save some for breakfast”- but, well, the heroes were hungry.

Susan’s mouth was reddened by the berry juice. Her already tempting lips seemed all the more inviting, dyed and summer-sweet. Logan’s chewing slowed as he regarded her in the starlight. She seemed lost in thought.

“It’s ready!” Scott announced.

“Great,” Cap said. “Logan, help me carry the berry.”

Bucky broke off one last chunk and took a big bite out of it. The ex-Soviet assassin seemed almost innocent, holding a huge chunk of raspberry in his lap, his mouth full, his cheeks stuffed, berry juice dripping down his chin. Steve gave him an utterly mushy look. Bucky smiled back.

“Here,” Logan said gently to Susan. “Hold this.” He held out his partly-eaten berry chunk. She accepted it as though waking from a dream. Their fingers brushed. Heat flared through Logan’s veins. His lips ticked up on one side in a smile before he turned and parted to help Captain America carry the giant raspberry.

Wanda held the rock dome up at an angle with her powers; the underside of the dome glowed bright red. She was frowning in concentration.

Logan and Captain America escorted the raspberry under the rock dome and tucked the leaf in around it.

Wanda lowered the dome.

“That’s a wrap,” Scott announced.

Cap nodded. “Good work.”

Scott glowed with praise. “Thanks! You know, I worked really hard on that. I’ve got mud under my fingernails, and in some _very_ inconvenient creases in my suit, which I _really_ wish I could wash, by the way, but y’know, we’re out roughin’ it, _man_ style, and… you’re… not listening to me anymore, is he.” Scott deflated. Steve had jostled his shoulder, turned around somewhere near the end of the second sentence, and was now leaning over Bucky and wiping berry juice from Bucky’s chin with his thumb.

“Well, _I_ appreciate you,” Hawkeye offered. He clapped Scott on the back.

“Thanks…”

Logan resumed his seat next to Susan. “Thanks fer watchin’ my berry.”

“Hm? No problem.” She handed it back to him, distracted.

Their fingers brushed again.

She paused.

Logan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

Susan swallowed. Her gaze flicked to Logan’s lips, then back to his eyes after a split second, almost too fast to catch. “I feel like I should miss it. –My team.” She withdrew her hands and hugged herself tight. “I should feel like I abandoned them.”

“But you don’t?” he guessed.

Susan’s delicate golden brows creased together. A cool breeze blew tendrils of her hair across her face, before they fell gently back against her shoulders. “It’s not that. It’s…” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s like I set them free.”

“So ya don’t miss ‘em?” Logan asked conversationally, taking a bite of his berry.

“Of _course_ I miss them. It’s just… I miss them the way you miss high school, or you miss painting with your hands in kindergarten. It was something I enjoyed, but it’s not something I want to go back to.”

“You’ve moved on,” Logan stated.

“I guess so.” Susan fell silent. She contemplated her slender hands, stained at the edges with raspberry juice.

Logan finished his berry. “You feel bad about that?” he asked.

“No.” Susan shifted closer, aligning her shoulder with his upper arm, sharing body heat between them. “If anything, I’m sorry that I lied to myself for so long, and told myself everything was fine.” She absently played with her left ring finger.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out…”

“I know.” Susan leaned against his shoulder. “That doesn’t make it any easier to let go.”

“I know.” He itched to put his arm around her, but he didn’t. “But you’ve gotta do what’s best for _you.”_

Susan laughed quietly. “You’ve said that before.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

She sighed. “I just wish someone had told me that a long time ago.” She stared up at the stars, her thumb tracing back and forth over the place her wedding ring used to be.

“What’s that?” Wanda wondered aloud, frowning at something over the trees.

“What’s what?” Hawkeye looked at her, followed her gaze, squinted, and then his eyes widened and he yelled, “EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

Everyone flattened themselves to the ground. Steve dove on top of Bucky and improvised a rock as a shield. Ant-Man panicked and shrunk himself further. Logan knocked Susan sideways and shielded her with his body.

Susan reacted on instinct; she braced her hands upward and cast a force field over the entire camp.

The blinking light slowly flew across the clearing, accompanied by a soft whirring sound.

Everyone held still.

The whirring faded into the distance, along with the blinking lights.

One by one, everyone cautiously sat up.

Susan dissipated her force field.

“What _was_ that?” asked Ant-Man.

“A drone,” Hawkeye answered. “One of Stark’s.”

“Do you think it saw us?”

“Not likely,” Cap said, “but we don’t want to take any chances. Sam, how much farther can we go?”

“According to the odometer,” Sam answered, “every ten feet is another mile. And we’re almost out of gas.”

“We still have the bike,” offered Scott.

“Which will only carry us if all but one of us shrink down even further,” Cap pointed out. He shook his head. “It’s too risky.”

“So what do we do?” asked Hawkeye. “Walk?”

“If that’s the only way,” Sam answered for him.

Susan and Bucky exchanged a weary look.

Logan bristled. “I ain’t got no problem with walkin’, but can we take a nap first? There’s some of us who need it.”

“A nap sounds _great,”_ agreed Ant-Man.

“I vote nap,” said Hawkeye.

“All right,” Cap announced. “Those who need it can sleep in the van until it runs out of gas. Sam, you good to drive?”

“Like I was born to do it,” Sam replied.

“Good. Scott, you’ve got the bike.”

Ant-Man saluted Captain America and headed for the motorcycle.

“What about the food?” asked a very drowsy Bucky.

“We can’t take it with us,” Cap said apologetically. “It would just slow us down. We can find more in the morning.”

“All that work for nothin’…” Bucky complained.

“Let’s get moving!” Cap ordered. He opened the back doors of the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my characterization of Rogue is partly inspired by one of my sisters (Rosalie). There isn't a lot to go off of for young!Rogue besides X-Men Evolution and the X-Men movies; in the vast majority of the comics, she is an adult. She will be growing up later in this series, but for the moment, she is still very much awkward teenage Rogue


	11. Chapter 11

Scott was getting antsy. “It’s not healthy to stay tiny for this long,” he informed Captain America on their post-breakfast hike. “The Pym particles mess with your atomic structure. If we don’t return to normal size soon—I don’t know _what_ will happen!”

“Will they last until we reach the edge of the woods?”

“I mean, they’ll _last_ as long as we need them to— I have to use Pym particles to return us to normal size; it won’t just happen automatically— but isn’t it starting to make you feel weird? I feel weird, do _you_ feel weird?”

“It’s called anxiety, bub,” Logan commented, slashing a blade of grass out of the way with his claws. “Been on the run too long.”

“No,” Scott wheedled. “I know what anxiety feels like, _believe_ me. But this… unsettled feeling? I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“I feel it too,” Wanda said. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Cap paused. “Is there danger?”

“I’m… not sure…” Wanda frowned.

“Hawkeye. Is there another drone?”

Clint squinted upward and scanned the sky. The group paused and waited with bated breath.

Clint shook his head. “I don’t see anything.”

Captain America surveyed their surroundings, paying close attention to the spaces between the trees. “Keep your guard up.” He grabbed his shield and held it out protectively in front of him and Bucky. “We’ll be out in the open soon.”

The group huddled close together, on-guard. Every few paces, Logan sniffed the air and frowned.

The edge of the forest was in sight. Sunbeams streamed down through the canopy. Ahead of them stretched a field of tall grass and wildflowers. A small white butterfly fluttered across the clearing, its wings catching the sun. The butterfly was about twice their size.

Abruptly, Logan stopped. He unsheathed his claws. “I smell metal.”

“Like a car?” Scott asked optimistically.

“No.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “Somethin’ else.”

“Uh, Cap?” Scott suggested, “Now might be a good time to use those Pym particles.”

“Not yet.” Cap held out his arm. “That’ll make it easier to see us.”

“But it’ll also make it easier to fight,” Scott said just before a giant silver-and-purple robot landed in the clearing. The ground shook.

The robot stood from its crouch. Its massive head swiveled towards them.

_“Mutant Detected”_

*

“I have a location on the collars!” Hank proclaimed joyously.

Reed rushed to the screen Hank was pointing at. “Where?!”

Hank indicated the location with his claw. “An underground facility in Washington, D.C. In a rather familiar neighborhood. I had to stand on trial here, last year, on charges that were falsely brought up against me. The prosecutors were part of a group which call themselves the Friends of Humanity, a mutant hate group led by none other than Senator Kelly. In fact, if I am not mistaken, their headquarters are in this same neighborhood. I wonder…” Hank furrowed his brows and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Senator Kelly? Isn’t he the one behind those Sentinels that you’ve been chasing around?”

“One and the same,” Hank confirmed. “Although how he was endorsed by the government, I don’t know. The president has so far been silent on mutant issues, neither for us nor against us. I had thought perhaps he was on our side.”

“Hank,” Reed said, troubled. “You don’t think Senator Kelly had something to do with the stolen collars?”

Hank frowned at the screen. “A troubling notion, indeed— one that requires further investigation. As a student of law, we must assume that he is innocent, until proven guilty. However… it does seem a rather… unlikely coincidence.”

“And what if the Friends of Humanity _do_ have the collars?”

“Then we have no other option but to assume that they mean to do harm with them. We must disable, or destroy them, if at all possible.”

“I’ve been working on a way to jam the signals,” Reed said, “but so far all I’ve managed is a way to disable the communication system.”

“We must keep trying,” Hank urged.

*

“Peter?” Gwen’s voice crackled over the phone. She sounded hesitant.

“Yeah, Gwen?” Peter’s heart was in his throat.

“Um.” She cursed quietly and whispered “Hang on a sec.” There was noise in the background, like a group of men was walking past. She waited until they were long gone. “Peter?” she said, much quieter than before. “You know how you’re always telling me not to poke my nose in things where I don’t belong?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well…” She paused again. There was a distant sound, like a door clicking, one or two men talking, and a door clicking again. Gwen spoke quickly, in hushed tones. “Okay, so you know how I had that conference with my father? –You know I don’t agree with any of his views, right? –Anyway. So, it got to a point in the conference where there was nothing for me to do, and he told me to go to a museum, but we had that field trip there last year, so I got bored after about an hour, and I heard this guy talking, right?”

(“Hey! You in there!”)

Gwen spoke faster. It sounded like she’d changed positions; her voice was slightly muffled. “Well, it turns out he was one of the head members of the FOH. They have this lab in the basement, right in the building where they’re having the conference!”

(“You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”) The voice sounded much closer.

“Oh, sorry!” Gwen said, faking innocence. “I got separated from my tour group! Gosh, this place is so _confusing,_ you know?”

(“Who are you talkin’ to?”)

“Wait, that’s-! I was calling a friend for directions! I’m just such a klutz, I couldn’t even find a map!” She fake-laughed.

The man didn’t seem to buy it. The line went dead.

Peter sprinted down the hallway, phone nearly crushed in his hand. Thank Stark for decent phone covers. He skidded around a corner and caught sight of him. “JOHNNY!”

Johnny paused mid-sentence. “Yeah?”

Peter tripped to a stop. He righted himself and grabbed Johnny’s collar. “Gwen is in trouble!”

“Uh. Whoa there. That’s a new shirt!” He grabbed Peter’s wrists and attempted to ease them off the merchandise.

“SERIOUSLY?! My girlfriend is in trouble and all you can say is ‘new shirt’?!” Peter’s hands tightened on the material.

Johnny leaned back awkwardly. “I haven’t even _worn_ this before!”

Peter made a loud frustrated noise and shook Johnny by the collar. “She’s behind enemy lines! They’ve confiscated her phone! She could be in _jail_ , or worse!”

“Hol’ on dere,” Gambit said. “Which enemy lines are we talkin’?”

“The FOH!” Peter released Johnny’s collar and turned his pleading eyes to Gambit. “She’s in D.C. right now. She said they have a secret lab in the basement!”

“De FOH?” Gambit retorted with distaste. “Dey is _nasty_ people. Wha’s she doin’ there?”

“I don’t know!” Peter raked back his hair. “Her father had a conference! She said they work in the same building! Please, you gotta help me!”

“We’ll get you dere, mon ami,” Gambit promised. “But we can’t go off half-cocked. Firs’ we gotta find out exac’ly which buildin’ we’re infiltratin’.”

“I may be able to help,” Reed Richards said, standing nearby and looking guilty.

*

“What’s _that_ thing doing out in the middle of nowhere?” Hawkeye wondered, confused.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not friendly.” Wolverine stood ready, with his claws out.

“It would be easier to fight it if we were back to regular size,” Wanda said, her hands glowing.

“Working on it!” Ant-Man scrambled with his suit, as though he’d lost something.

The Sentinel edged closer, its eyes glowing red.

“Any time now!” Hawkeye called, arrow poised to shoot.

“Got it!”

They returned to regular size just before the Sentinel’s gigantic hand smashed down towards where they’d all been standing moments before; Susan and Wanda halted it with their powers.

The Sentinel withdrew its hand. _“MUTANT DETECTED”_

It swung its hand sideways at them.

Steve and Bucky leapt out of the way. Susan constructed a barrier. Wanda halted its hand.

The Sentinel’s gaze swung around. Its eyes shifted and narrowed. _“Multiple Unregistered Mutants Detected. Status: Hostile.”_ It formed its huge hands into fists. _“Attack.”_

“If you insist.” Wolverine launched himself at the robot, claws out. He slashed at the Sentinel’s legs, but bounced off with an electric crackle. He tumbled to the ground. “Well, whaddaya know.” He wiped dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand. “They upgraded.”

Hawkeye launched an EMP arrow at its forehead. The entire robot crackled with lightning-like electric sparks. It held its head as though in pain and stumbled back a step.

“Shields disabled,” Hawkeye said, a touch smugly.

Wanda broke a huge tree off by its base and held it up over the Sentinel.

_“Mutants Resisting Arrest.”_ The Sentinel shot a beam from its eyes.

The group dove out of the way, except for Susan, who was maintaining a protective shield. The force of the blast knocked her backwards several feet. She hit her back on a tree trunk with an “Oof!” and fell to the side, in pain.

“That’s it.” Wolverine flew at the Sentinel’s legs once more. “That ain’t _no_ way to treat a lady.” He climbed up the Sentinel’s body and started hacking away at its jet pack.

“Wolverine!” Wanda warned.

“Go ahead an’ drop it!” Wolverine called back. The Sentinel struggled to remove Wolverine from its back.

“It will crush you!” Wanda warned.

“See if I care.” Wolverine hacked off a huge piece of its jet pack and pried his claws under the back of its helmet.

Wanda dropped the tree on the Sentinel’s legs, knocking it onto its back. Wolverine tumbled aside, recovered, and flew back at its head in a rage. The Sentinel lifted its hands as though to squash Wolverine.

“Oh, no ya don’t!” Hawkeye fired another arrow at the Sentinel’s left hand. The entire arm short-circuited. The Sentinel’s eyes flashed rapidly.

_“Hostile,”_ it repeated. _“Hos-hos-hos-t-illlle”_

“Ya got _that_ right.” Wolverine jammed his claws into its eyes. Electricity arced up along his arms.

The Sentinel’s chest began to glow.

Wanda frowned in alarm. “What’s that?”

“What’s what.” Wolverine snatched his claws back out of its flickering eye sockets. He glanced at the glowing chest.

The chest glowed brighter and then suddenly unleashed a blinding white beam into the sky.

Wolverine cursed and stumbled backwards. He covered his eyes. But for a horrible moment, he was blind.

*

“There.” A man in a white lab coat pointed to the glowing spot on the map. “A Sentinel has been downed. Send in reinforcements.”

“You won’t get away with this!” Gwen said, done with the ‘innocent blonde’ act.

“My dear,” an old man in thick glasses said; the glasses glowed eerily in the light of the screen. “We already have.”

“My father will hear about this! He has a high position in the government! He can take you down!”

The man in the glasses chuckled. “The government?” he scoffed. “We _are_ the government!”

Gwen frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We are to your _government_ what Hydra was to S.H.I.E.L.D., but better. _Stronger._ We’ve been here since the _beginning.”_ He smiled at her, leaning uncomfortably close over her chair. He smelled like old people and stale coffee, and his teeth were an ugly yellowish-gray. “You have about as much chance of taking us down as you have of becoming the Queen of England!”

“Well. I _am_ part royalty on my mother’s side.”

The man backhanded her across the face. “Don’t backsass me.” He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Gwen said because she had a bad habit of not shutting up when she really needed to, “since you just told me.”

“You think you’re _so smart,”_ the man with the glasses said. “Sneaking into a government facility. Going where you don’t belong.”

“I _told_ you, I got _lost.”_

“Not likely.” The man’s glasses flashed as his head changed angles. “You snuck into our secret lab and immediately contacted someone on your cell phone. Someone by the name of ‘Peter Parker.’”

“Yeah? What’s it to you?”

“We know who he _is,_ young lady.” He leaned ominously close again.

Gwen frowned. “He’s just a friend,” she lied, uncertain what this man was getting at.

“Just a friend,” the man mocked, “who has never told you his biggest secret?”

Men in labcoats milled around, monitoring screens, making phone calls, and sending disapproving looks her way. She didn’t recognize any of them.

She returned her attention to the man with the glasses. “He’s not a mutant, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

The man chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, no. But you can’t tell me you didn’t know that your dear Peter Parker is _Spider-man.”_

*

Several large shadows converged in the sky. With a whoosh, they descended as one: six Sentinels landed in the field.

_“Mutant Detected”_ they said in unison.

What followed was a melee; Hawkeye shot and reloaded EMP arrows as quickly as he could, until he ran out. Wanda blocked as many shots as she could, but she could only contain so much. Wolverine hopped from Sentinel to Sentinel, hacking and slashing that anything that looked important; the Sentinels kept punching each other in an effort to remove Wolverine. Cap kept throwing his shield. Bucky kept shooting his guns. Ant-Man grew and shrunk at will, disabling parts of their robotic structure, but he was getting tired. Sam fired at them from the sky, grateful for the chance to use his wings again.

And Susan remained where she had collapsed, on her side underneath a tree.

Hawkeye had run out of arrows. Bucky was re-loading his gun. Wanda held her hands up, eyes glowing, forming a defensive matrix. The five standing heroes backed into a circle.

A Sentinel shot Sam out of the sky. He crashed into the field with a grunt, one side of his backpack smoking.

_“Mutant Detected,”_ the Sentinels said as one. _“Surrender.”_

“Not on your life, bub!” Wolverine flew at them once more. Something clamped around his neck. He yowled in surprise and pain. “What—what’ve you done to me?” He reached up. There was a collar around his neck. It burned like hell. “Get this thing off me!”

_“Mutant Contained,”_ said the Sentinel which had collared him.

_“Mutant Detected”_ said the Sentinel next to it. They swiveled their heads towards Wanda.

“I know I’ve got another arrow in here somewhere!” Clint insisted, feeling around his empty quiver.

“Hawkeye?” Wanda backed away, hands up, eyes glowing. “Captain?”

“We’ve got them, Wanda!” Cap said. He bravely wedged his shield into one of their feet.

The Sentinels advanced, unaffected.

_“Mutant Detected”_

Wanda screamed and unleashed her powers. A few Sentinels stumbled back, but one caught her from behind and snapped a collar around her neck. Wanda screamed louder. Her hands stopped glowing. She fell to her knees, woozy.

“You bastards,” Wolverine snarled.

_“Mutant Detected”_

“What do you mean, ‘mutant detected’? You got all of us!”

_“Mutant Detected.”_ A Sentinel headed towards the woods.

Wolverine struggled. “No. Susan!!”

Bucky fired three shots at the Sentinel’s back. They all bounced off and fell harmlessly to the ground. The Sentinel’s back was slightly dented.

Cap drew his shield up in defense; the other Sentinels were forming a tight circle around them.

“Susan!!” Wolverine howled. He engaged his claws, despite the extreme pain this caused him. His hands bled. “You sunovabitch!” He slashed at the nearest Sentinel. The force of the blow tore the back of his hand open. He bled freely.

The Sentinel in the woods carried Susan in one fist; there was a collar around her neck.

“No!” Wolverine slashed at the Sentinels over and over. “She’s not even a mutant! _Let her go!”_

_“Home,”_ said one Sentinel.

_“Home”_ echoed the other Sentinels. They took off, via jet blasters in their feet, carrying the heroes with them.

*

Peter was ready to charge right through the front door.

Gambit held out a hand. “Wait.”

A security guard ambled past, bored-looking and unhurried.

Gambit picked up an acorn off the sidewalk and charged it. “Dis calls fo’ a bit of _subtlety.”_ He waited until the guard had rounded a corner, then threw the acorn towards a parked vehicle. The acorn exploded.

“Hey!” The guard called out, rushing towards the rapidly deflating tire. He picked a walkie-talkie off his belt. “Security, we’ve got a sabotage on a public vehicle.”

“Follow me,” Gambit said. He led them through a side door and into a dark hallway.

A group of men in lab coats rushed past in a perpendicular hallway. Gambit and the others flattened themselves against the wall, Reed more literally than most.

“So helpful ‘a dem tu lead th’ way,” Gambit commented. He peered around the corner; the coast was clear. He led the group in the direction from which the men in lab coats had emerged.

There was a door marked ‘Do Not Enter.’ Gambit smirked, picked the lock, and entered anyway. The door led them down a flight of concrete stairs to a cement hallway full of metal doors.

“How do we know which one she’s in?!” Peter fretted.

Gambit held a finger to his lips. “Listen, mon ami.” They held still.

A group of voices became audible. One of the voices was female. She sounded upset.

“Somethin’ tells me,” Gambit said, following the sound, “dis our door.”

“We might be outnumbered,” Reed warned.

“Relax, mon ami. Dese men are lab rats. Wha’s de worse dat can happen?”

“Hey!” a voice interrupted. “You there! This is a restricted area!”

Peter webbed the guy’s mouth shut.

Gambit smirked. “Efficace.”

“Thanks.” Peter webbed restraints around the security guard so he couldn’t move. The guy wriggled on the floor like a gagged caterpillar.

“Magnifique.” Gambit charged the door he was standing in front of. He backed up a step and indicated the others should do the same. The door exploded.

A group of frightened men in lab coats stared at them with surprise.

“Gwen!” Peter exclaimed. He rushed towards Gwen, where she sat handcuffed to a chair.

“Mutants!” exclaimed one of the men; an older one wearing glasses. He pointed a finger angrily at the small group. “Get them!”

The men in lab coats rushed towards them.

Gambit grabbed a handful of small objects and charged them.

Reed morphed out of the way.

Gambit threw the objects; they popped and fizzled like firecrackers, but only caused the scientists to pause and dodge out of the way before moving forward.

“Guys,” Johnny said with a cocky smile, stepping out in front of them. “I’ve got this.” He held out his hands.

The scientists all stopped, angry and surprised. Their feet seemed to be glued to the floor. The air grew pungent with the smell of burning rubber.

Johnny formed finger-guns and blew off his fingers.

Gambit grinned. He slung an arm around Johnny’s shoulders and kissed the side of his head.

Peter freed Gwen from the chair and carried her in his arms. “Let’s get out of here!!” He rushed towards the door.

“Peter,” Gwen interrupted, “How did you find me?”

“Let’s talk later, Gwen.”

Thunderous footsteps approached.

“We’ve got company,” Reed warned.

An angry group of security guards blocked the doorway, holding up guns. “Hold it right there!”

“If you insist.” Gambit flicked a charged paperclip at them. It landed in the opening of the barrel, sat there for just long enough for the man holding it to stare at his gun in consternation, and then the gun exploded, knocking him back into his comrades. They collapsed like bowling pins.

“Sorry about this!” Peter webbed them to the floor. The group leapt over them and hurried down the hallway. An alarm was blaring. “Subtlety, huh?”

“Could’ve gone better,” Gambit acquiesced.

“Well, it’s about to get worse!”

Something had caused the ground to shake.

_“Mutant Detected”_

“Merde!” Gambit swore. “Out de back way!”

They rushed towards the back door. The ground shook, as though heavy things were impacting it in multiple locations, one after another.

Gambit opened the back door into a parking lot filled with Sentinels. He hastily shut the door. “Maybe de front way, non?”

The front was also guarded by Sentinels. The Sentinels were closing in on the building.

A voice came on over the loudspeakers. “Give it up, mutant. We have you surrounded.”

“Ah don’ suppose you’d believe we was jus’ droppin’ by fo’ a visit.”

The heroes backed into a circle, ready to fight.

“Drop your weapons, or we’ll fire,” the loudspeakers warned.

“I’ll show _you_ fire,” Johnny muttered.

“Mon amour,” Gambit warned, “now is not de time.”

Johnny glowed, fists clenched. “You just tell me when.”

“Steady…”

Footsteps approached.

“Steady…”

“Hold still!” a man in S.W.A.T. gear warned, his gun held up. “We have you surrounded.”

Men in S.W.A.T. gear surrounded them from both sides of the hallway. They were all holding guns.

_“Now!”_ Gambit blew a hole in the ceiling. Peter webbed his way up through it, carrying Gwen. Reed stretched his way up through it. Johnny ignited, except for his hands, and carried Gambit up through the hole.

“After them!” ordered the man from below.

They rushed down the hallway towards a wall. Gambit blew a hole in the wall. They all exited, using their powers, and fled through the Sentinel-infested lawn. Sentinels fired at them left and right, singing trees and occasionally snapping Peter’s webs. Gambit threw cards at a few to slow them down.

It wasn’t easy, but they made it to safety. The group paused to catch their breath in an alley, several blocks away. The Sentinels milled about, searching.

“We can’t stay here for long,” Reed warned, panting, his hands braced on his knees.

“Well,” Johnny panted, “Now we know where the Sentinels’ home base is.”

“And we know something else,” Gwen said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a collar.

*

“So,” Senator Kelly said, his hands folded behind his back. “We’ve managed to capture the elusive Captain America. I guess this night wasn’t a _total_ loss.”

“You have no right to detain me here,” Captain America avowed.

“Don’t I?” Senator Kelly sneered. “You are a wanted fugitive. You’re harboring a man with an arrest warrant on his head, not to mention cavorting about the countryside in stolen vehicles with unregistered mutants.”

_“Borrowed_ vehicles,” he corrected, “and heroes have a one-month grace period before they have to register with the government. You have no right to hold my friends here, either.”

“Oh, at the _very_ least, I have a right to hold _him.”_ He cupped Bucky’s jaw and pressed his cheeks together, smushing Bucky’s mouth in a degrading, condescending sort of way. _“You’re_ wanted for the assassination of the Wakandan king, aren’t you.”

“He didn’t kill anyone!” Cap argued. “He was framed.”

Senator Kelly laughed. “The Winter Soldier? _Framed?_ My dear boy, do you have _any_ idea whom you’re defending?”

“I know _exactly_ who I’m defending, and those deaths weren’t Bucky’s fault.”

“Steve,” Bucky croaked, “Please stop.”

“I _won’t_ stop, not until you accept that. Hydra brainwashed you! Those deaths weren’t your choice. If you’d been yourself-”

“But you didn’t really _know_ me, Steve. There were parts of myself that I felt I could _never_ tell you about, because they were too dark. You’ve always been so good, Steve. Sometimes I felt dirty just standing next to ya.”

“But a lot of that has _changed,_ Buck. It’s all right to love another man now.”

“That’s not all I meant, Steve…”

“Ohoho!” Senator Kelly laughed. “Well, this _is_ an amusing plot twist. The Winter Soldier? In _love_ with Captain America? And Captain America loves him _back?_ Well, doesn’t _that_ explain a lot of things.” His voice dripped like melting icicles.

“Leave them alone!” Wanda said.

“Oh that’s rich, coming from _you.”_ Senator Kelly wheeled on her. “Aren’t you the runaway whelp of that troublemaker, Magneto? Hard to imagine a mutant who’s done more dirty things in their life than the spawn of _that_ human-hating scum.”

“My father only wants us to be safe,” she growled.

“And a fine job he’s done. Just _look_ at this!” Senator Kelly gestured at-large to the yard and the building, which were peppered with blackened holes, and in places, still burning. Sentinels roamed about, scanning the ground and nearby buildings. “Your mutant friends injured twenty people tonight, and it could have been more! They cared about nothing but rescuing that petty _girl. Such_ a disappointment,” he added. “Her father is no doubt _seething.”_

“I told ya before,” Wolverine growled, “We don’t know no Peter Parker, nor no Gwen Stacy.”

“But surely you recognize the mutants who helped rescue her? Our security footage caught them after our guard discovered the cameras had been disabled. A common thief, with a rap list almost as long as your Soviet dog’s. Goes by the name of ‘Gambit.’”

Wolverine snarled.

“Gambit?” Susan asked weakly. She watched a Sentinel douse some fire. “Johnny was here?”

Senator Kelly grinned. “So you _do_ know them!”

“Purely coincidence, bub. Now do you wanna tell me how you got your hands on these collars, or do I hafta _rip_ the info outta ya.”

“Strong words from a man handcuffed to a wall. But I think your Reed Richards has an explanation for that.”

“Reed?” Susan echoed, bleary.

“Oh yes. Surely you knew Reed was working to improve them? So kind of him, to lend us his research.”

“You… You’re lying,” Susan argued weakly. Her head ached.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Senator Kelly said. “We’ve got a Sentinel locked on him as we speak.”


	12. Chapter 12

The news flashed across the TV screen, showing Team Cap being taken into custody. Sentence fragments scrolled along the bottom, proclaiming that there had been a ‘mutant uprising’ and ‘hundreds of innocent lives were endangered.’ Magneto slammed his fists against the table.

With a whirl of his cape, Magneto stormed across the room, fists clenched. He flung open the doors to his balcony and stepped out. “My fellow mutants!” he commanded. Heads turned. An audience gathered below. “The time has come,” he continued, “to strike!” He pounded his fist on the railing for emphasis. “Join with me, tonight, and we shall right what has been wrong! Alone, we are vulnerable, but together! We stand strong!”

The crowd of mutants below him roared.

*

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was Spider-man,” Peter said, downtrodden. A Sentinel shot white beams out of its eyes somewhere beyond the alleyway, visible between the buildings. The ground shook with their movements.

“I get it,” Gwen said, obviously a little miffed, but trying to be cool about it. “The whole ‘if-the-bad-guys-know-then-I’ll-put-you-in-danger’ thing. I’ve seen enough movies.”

The alley shook. Loose pieces of brick and mortar tumbled down.

“I _wanted_ to tell you,” Peter said, “Believe me, I did. Sometimes it was _so hard_ not to! But in the end… You and Aunt May…” The alley shook again. “I have to protect you. You two mean the world to me. I can’t…” She laid a comforting hand on his arm. He swallowed. “I can’t lose another person that close to me, again.”

“You may wanna get ready, den,” Gambit warned, charging a card, “Because dat wall’s about’ta bust open.”

Sure enough, with one final quake, a Sentinel busted through the brick wall. Its glowing eyes fixed on them. _“Mutant Detected”_

“FLAME ON!” Johnny ignited and flew upward. “You guys go on ahead, I’ve got this one. –Yeah you wanna piece of this?” Johnny flew around its head and stuck out his tongue. “Come on!” Johnny zipped around the Sentinel in random patterns. The Sentinel swatted at him as though he were an annoying fly.

Peter took Johnny’s advice and skedaddled out of the alleyway, with Reed in tow, but Gambit stayed behind. “You sure you don’ wan’ a hand, cher?”

“Nah.” Johnny blasted heat at the back of the Sentinel’s head, melting it. “I’ve got this.”

The melting Sentinel swayed.

“Whoa, look out!” Johnny swooped down and carried Gambit out of the way.

“Nice save, mon amour.” Gambit smirked. “Ah begin tu feel like Princess Jasmine.”

“A WHOLE NEW WORLD,” Johnny sang badly. “SHINING, SHIMMERING, SPLENDID!” He wove between buildings, carrying Gambit. He did a little loopty-loop, just for kicks. “NO ONE TO TELL US NO! OR WHERE TO GO! OR SAY WE’RE ONLY DREAMING!” He blasted a fireball at a Sentinel, which turned its head and blasted an eye-beam at him. Johnny ducked out of the way.

“A whole new world~” Gambit sang in falsetto.

Johnny laughed so hard he crashed into a building. Gambit tumbled into him, pressed suddenly face-to-face up against his front. Johnny wrapped his arms around him without thinking. They stared at each other for a moment.

“You guys!” Peter complained, webbing the eyes of the Sentinel that was staring at them, “Now is not the time to get mushy!”

“Right.” Johnny set Gambit down and ignited again. “Sorry, Peter!”

“Don’t ‘sorry’ me, just _fight!”_

But there were too many of them. There were Sentinels _everywhere,_ marching down every street, converging on every street corner. No matter how many Gambit disabled, or Johnny melted, or Peter blinded, there were always a dozen more. Reed was becoming apprehensive about their odds.

And then, down from the sky, rang a most unexpected voice: “Citizens!” Magneto boomed. “This is your last chance.” He raised his hands. At once, all the Sentinels levitated up towards the sky, as though suspended in a tractor beam. Their giant metallic bodies went limp.

“Surrender to me!” Magneto commanded. “End this petty war!” He held all the Sentinels elevated about five stories above the ground.

“Or what?” some brave soul interjected. “You’ll kill us?”

Magneto glared at the man. “Exactly.” He formed fists with his hands. The Sentinels crushed in upon themselves like tin cans. Magneto threw his hands out forward; the Sentinels accelerated towards the building from whence they came and crashed heavily into the ground, many of them leaving large skid-marks and craters in their wake.

There was a roar from somewhere on the ground. An army of mutants in all colors, shapes, and sizes surged forward, many with weapons in their hands. They began attacking anyone in sight.

“You have brought this upon yourselves!” Magneto boomed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Magneto!” Professor X’s voice echoed in his head. “Stop this violence at once! There is an easier way!”

“It is too late, Charles,” Magneto replied out loud. “Join me, or let me be.”

“Erik, I _implore_ you! For the sake of humanity!”

“Humanity forsake us long ago.” Magneto raised his hands and brought down the entire headquarters of the Friends of Humanity. The building crumbled to the ground.

Peter and Johnny stared at the downed Sentinels, mere feet from where they stood.

“Gambit think it’s time tu go home,” Gambit said.

“And just leave Magneto here to fight?” Peter asked, pale.

“Unless _you_ wan’ tu fight him, homme.”

“Not particularly,” Johnny volunteered.

“But he’s killing all those people!” Peter objected. They could hear the distant shouts and screams of mutants fighting humans. There were distant gunshots and shattering glass. “We’re supposed to protect them! We can’t just let them be!”

“Gambit not suggestin’ we _leave_ dem. Gambit jus’ wan’ backup. We in ovah our heads.”

“I’ll go to the professor,” Reed volunteered. “Gambit, you stay here with Johnny. Save as many civilians as you can. Peter, get Gwen to safety. This is no place for a civilian.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter responded, relieved that someone had taken charge. He wrapped Gwen’s arms securely around his neck, and one arm securely around her waist, and he webbed his way across the city, away from the fight.

“Wait,” said Johnny, thinking clearly for once, “Wouldn’t it make the most sense if _I_ went to get the Professor? Seeing as I can fly and all?”

“Johnny,” Reed said in a patient, yet stern way, much like a father, “You tell me honestly if you want to be away from Gambit for one _second,_ especially around a mob of armed civilians that’s out for mutant blood.”

Johnny paled and stood closer to Gambit.

“I’ll be back soon,” Reed promised.

Something exploded half a block away. Glass sprayed onto the sidewalk. The building was on fire.

“You don’t think,” Johnny said, face pinched, “that anyone’s gonna _die_ tonight, do you?”

“Mon amour,” Gambit said as gently as he could when telling a hard truth, “Ah t’ink many already _have.”_

*

“Bucky, are you all right?” Captain America strained, holding up a slab of concrete so his friends could crawl out from under it.

Bucky coughed somewhere in the dark. “I’ve seen better days.”

“Does anyone have a light?” Clint asked.

“One moment.” Wanda ignited her hands. The light caught her reflexive wince.

“Damn collar,” Clint grumbled. “Let’s see if we can get this thing off of you.” He fumbled with it, trying to find some sort of release.

“I got it.” Ant-Man shrunk himself down very small, hopped onto Wanda’s neck, and climbed into the collar. He disengaged the locking mechanism from the inside.

The collar popped off. Wanda massaged her neck with one non-glowing hand. Ant-Man landed proudly nearby, full-size, his hands on his waist.

“Whatever you just did,” Wolverine growled, “You wanna do it over here?” He was holding a weakened Susan.

Ant-Man made his way over there.

“How’s it look out there, Sam?” Cap asked.

“Not good,” Sam answered. “The only way out is through a maintenance tunnel that runs underground. The rest of it’s blocked. We’re lucky the whole building didn’t come down on us.”

“Guess someone up there likes us.”

“Guess so.”

“Is the maintenance tunnel clear?”

“I’ll have to check. Hard to see with just my goggles. The night vision’s busted. Damn Sentinel knocked out half my view screen.”

Cap jostled his shoulder. “Do your best.” He turned towards Wolverine. “How’s it looking over there?”

Susan’s collar had fallen to the floor, and Wolverine’s had just popped off. Wolverine rubbed his neck and growled. “Soon as I get my hands on the asshole who did this…”

“I don’t think it was the same guys who captured us,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah,” Ant-Man agreed, full-size again. “I don’t think they’d blow up their own building.”

“Who knows,” Bucky said gloomily.

“Whoever it was,” Cap said, “we’re not about to wait to find out. Logan, can you carry her?”

“I can walk just fine,” Susan said, slumping with the first step she took.

Wolverine wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “I can help.”

Above ground, the battle raged on. The air was peppered with gunshot, the streets littered with bodies. Glass blasted from blown-out windows left and right, spraying the ground with shards. The streetlights combined with the smoking fires to form an ominous orange glow. The roar of the army presented a constant background noise, which was only added to by angry shouts. Buildings burned. Benches and dumpsters were overturned. High above it all, Magneto looked down with dark satisfaction.

Johnny and Remy were cornered in an alleyway. A group of anti-mutant protestors had found them. They’d recognized Remy as the one who’d blown a hole in space-time, and said some ugly words. Remy backed up further and further, ready to fight if need be. Johnny blocked him with his body. When a gun cocked, aimed straight at Remy, Johnny panicked and grabbed him and flew up to the roof.

“They’re both mutants! Get them!”

Remy groaned. There was blood flowing down his leg.

“Remy!” Johnny pulled him close.

“Bullet grazed my leg, cher. Ah’ll be all righ’.” He tried to move his leg, but immediately stopped with a pained wince.

“Let—let me see if I can cauterize that.” Johnny searched Remy’s leg for the wound. The blood made him dizzy.

“You don’ gotta do more dan wrap it,” Remy said through gritted teeth.

“I—I gotta stop the bleeding!” Johnny’s hands shook.

Remy caught them. “Let me.” He tore a strip off the bottom of his tan overcoat and bound it around his leg. He winced hard. He had trouble breathing.

Johnny watched, helpless, his world spinning.

Remy tied it off with a knot. “See?” He let his arms go limp. “All bettah.”

Johnny held him close. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

“Who said anyt’ing abou’ dyin’?”

“They’re on the roof! Get ‘em!”

Remy grimaced at Johnny. “Tha’s our cue.”

Johnny picked him up bridal-style and flew away from the fighting. He had to dodge a few bullets mid-air. “If you die on me,” Johnny said, heart racing, “I fucking swear-!”

“Gambit not gonna die on you.” He reached up to caress Johnny’s face. “Give us a kiss for de road?”

“I’ll kiss you until that damn leg is better.”

The two heroes kissed in the sky while D.C. burned behind them.

*

“Reed! Where the fuck are you?”

Reed cringed and placed a finger on the comm button, bringing Tony’s face to a side-screen so he could still see out the windshield. “I’m in my jet.”

“Well, fly your ass back to Stark Tower! You know, you’ve been kind of a shitty teammate lately. You keep disappearing on me. Is there something you’d like to tell me, Reed? Hm? Is there a _reason_ you keep disappearing on me at all hours without telling me where you’re going? Because when I’m counting someone, I like to, you know, be able to _count on them.”_

“I’m on my way back right now-”

“Well, it’s about fucking time! I can’t run this whole operation by myself. I may be a genius with an army of super-robots, but-”

“Wait, did you say super-robots?” Reed frowned.

“Yeah.” Tony paused for half a second, rolled his eyes in exasperation, and clarified, “Not Ultron again, something different. Something more... J.A.R.V.I.S.-like. They’re not gonna try to destroy humanity or uproot a city this time, trust me. I think the world suffered enough from that.”

“…Right. Well, in the spirit of honesty, I’m not exactly headed back to Stark Tower.”

Tony spluttered. “You just _told_ me you were on your way back!”

“I know, and I am, but— Tony, I’m on way back from D.C. Something’s not right.”

“You mean _other_ than the politicians that live there?”

“Tony, this is serious-”

_“Everything’s_ serious with you, Reed! God, you’re almost as bad as Cap.”

“Tony.” Reed glowered. “Magneto has brought an army of mutants to Washington D.C. and declared war on humankind. He’s burning half the city.”

Tony was silent for so long, Reed had to check the corner of his windshield to make sure the connection hadn’t been terminated. Tony’s face was white as a sheet. He worked his way through shock, anger, dread, resolve, and finally, the kind of stubborn determination that always seems to end up with a crazy half-baked plan and someone dying. “I’ll be right there.”

“Tony-!”

Tony’s face disappeared. The call was disconnected.

*

Sam was leading Team Cap through the tunnels under D.C. The tunnels were turning out to be sewers, and the lighting was almost as terrible as the smell. Water dripped intermittently, setting the already-alert heroes on-edge. A rat scurried by, causing Wanda to stumble aside into a damp wall and cover her mouth to stifle her scream.

“Shh,” Cap warned, holding a finger to his lips.

“This way,” Sam gestured. This tunnel was lighter than the rest. There was a ladder at the end. “-I think we can get out here!”

One by one, they climbed up the ladder.

The last two out were Wolverine and Susan, who Wolverine was carrying on his back.

“Really, I’m fine,” Susan protested after they reached the surface, but when she stubbornly tried to stand, her world tipped and somehow her head ended up against Wolverine’s chest.

“You keep tellin’ yerself that.” Wolverine propped her up against his shoulder. “Where to now, Cap.”

They were aboveground in a relatively quiet part of the city; here, they were just beyond the edge of where unease was beginning to settle in, and people stirred in their beds, about to become aware of the mutant uprising.

“This way.” He led them in the direction they’d been walking. “We’re in no condition for a fight.”

“What’s this?” Bucky teased weakly. “Steve Rogers, actually backing away from a fight?”

“You know I’m not _that_ bad, Buck.”

“Says the guy who was ready to go up against Tony Stark a few days ago.” Bucky interrupted whatever Steve was going to say. “-Says the guy who put up his dukes in a Brooklyn alley when he weighed ninety pounds soaking wet and couldn’t get a job on account of his asthma. Says the guy who would’ve marched straight up to Hitler and punched him in the face if we’d let ‘im.”

“Okay, first off, I punched Adolf Hitler in the jaw over two hundred times-”

“That was a _stage_ performance, Stevie-”

“And _second_ of all, who _wouldn’t_ punch Adolf Hitler in the face?”

“You got ‘im there,” Ant-Man interjected helpfully.

“Whatever,” Bucky said. “All I’m sayin’ is, look at my Stevie, all grown up. He finally learned when to walk away from a fight.”

Cap’s jaw ticked. He stared straight ahead. “Only because you’re hurt, Buck,” he said deadly-quiet.

“So, what, if I was fine, you’d endanger the rest of the team and just march right in?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“If I didn’t have this pesky little bruise in my side, you would’ve gone in, guns blazing? Why can’t you just take the compliment, Steve? Why do you gotta make it so difficult?”

Steve marched on a few paces before his expression settled and one corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re right. ‘m sorry, Buck. Thank you.”

“See? That’s all it takes.” Bucky smacked Steve on the back and then winced because the motion had tugged at his bruise. “A little humility.”

“Maybe if there was more of that,” Sam muttered, “We wouldn’t be in this damn mess in the first place.”

“You sure said a mouthful right there, buddy,” Ant-Man stated.

Something zoomed overhead.

“Jeez,” Hawkeye said. “Are they sending the entire _military_ after him?”

“I sure hope not,” Cap said. “Their machines are made out of metal.” He had this look forming on his face, this line forming in his jaw, which could only spell trouble.

“Oh no,” Sam said. “You are _not_ going back.”

“He’s going to crush them like bugs,” Cap said, staring back at the city.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “just like he’ll crush _us_ like bugs. In case you’ve forgotten, my wings are made out of metal. Wolverine’s _bones_ are made out of metal. Hawkeye is out of arrows, Susan and Wanda are too weak to fight, you and Ant-Man have metal in your _suits,_ and don’t even get me _started_ on The Grumpy Soldier over there.”

Bucky glowered and formed a fist with his metal hand.

Cap’s grip shifted on his shield. “Someone’s got to stop him.”

“You don’t trust the military?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

“It’s not that I don’t trust it.” Another aircraft zoomed overhead. “It’s just that I’m not sure they know what they’re doing.”

“And _you_ know better?”

Cap gave him a look.

“Oh boy,” Bucky said, “here we go.”

“Sam. I’ve been fighting for this country since 1943-”

Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“-and if you think, for one moment, that I’m going to stop just because the odds are against me-”

Bucky brought a hand over his eyes and pinched his forehead.

“-you, and everyone else out there-” he gestured towards the city with his shield “-have got another thing coming.”

Something different zoomed overhead. Hawkeye seemed startled.

“Steve,” Sam began, “I’m not-”

“Is that _Tony?”_

They all swiveled to look.

Speeding towards the city, propelled by four familiar blue jets, was a small human-shaped aircraft.

“Son of a bitch,” Cap said, gripping his shield tight.

Tony flew directly towards the center of the action, right where the buildings burned the brightest, and Magneto hovered above it all, crushing every helicopter and airstrike that approached.

“You’re going after him,” Sam said.

“He’s gonna get himself _killed!”_

“I ain’t arguing.” Sam held up his hands.

Cap examined his group, one leg already planted firmly in the direction of D.C. “Sam,” he said very seriously, “Can you get Bucky and the others to safety?”

“That, I can do. Are you sure you don’t want help?”

“You said it yourself. I’ll only put the others in danger.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“I know. Sam— Bucky. Wanda. Susan. Logan. Scott. Clint. –I’ve risked all your lives enough. If any of you want to join me in stopping Magneto, despite being injured, despite being weak, there are thousands of civilians who would be grateful for your help. But if you’re just too weak, if you know this is a fight you can’t win… I understand.”

Bucky sighed heavily and stood next to him.

Cap frowned in genuine surprise.

Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulder and squeezed it, smiling grimly. “I’m with ya till the end of the line.”

The look that overcame Steve Rogers’s face was deeply sappy. He clasped Bucky on the shoulder and gave him one of the saddest smiles anyone had ever seen. Bucky’s smile tensed further; he hugged Steve, muttered, “you’re an idiot,” and when he drew away, both their faces were calm, Steve’s tear-streaked. Steve Rogers turned to look at the rest of his group.

“It’s up to you,” Sam said. “If you guys all want to head back into the city on a suicide mission, be my guest. I’m doin’ whatever Cap tells me to do.”

One by one, the heroes moved to stand behind Cap and Bucky. Every addition to his team sent another line of confidence down his frame, until his stance reflected the legend of Captain America.

Sam was the last one left standing. “Guess that’s everyone,” he said. “-What do you say, Cap?” He moved to stand with the rest of his group. “What’s the plan?”

*

Tony opened a secure line to the head of the US Airforce and promptly asked what the fuck they thought they were doing.

“How did you get this number?” barked a man with a buzzcut and a bad attitude.

“Easy there, Smiley. Tony Stark, head of Stark Industries, registered superhero? Iron Man? Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

“This is a secure military channel!”

“What?” Tony pouted. “You don’t remember giving me your number? And after the beautiful night we had, Colonel; I thought we had something special.”

“State your business and get off this line!” he growled.

“Yes _sir._ Colonel, are you aware that you are sending an endless fleet of _metal_ towards the very angry Master of Magnetism?”

“We sent our forces to contain the disaster. He should be shot down by now!”

“Well,” Tony winced, “Not so much. See, _Magneto_ can control _bullets.”_

“That was not listed in his mutant powers!”

“Probably not, because, y’know, it seems pretty obvious that a guy who is basically Lord of the Magnets can control anything that’s made out of metal. Helicopters, tanks, missiles, bullets- it’s all the same for this guy. And all you’re doing is throwing a bunch of metal at him and making it worse.”

He could practically _feel_ the guy going purple. “We know what we’re doing! I have _years_ of military training! You are not even a soldier! I outrank you! This is a secure channel! Never call again, unless you want your smug ass to get court-marshalled!”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t try to tell you,” Tony kept saying even after the guy had hung up. He lowered himself to a hover just above a bickering crowd. “HEY!” he said through his loudspeakers. A few turned. Most kept fighting. “ **HEY!** ”

They flinched.

“Stop fighting! Can’t you see you’re destroying the city?” Tony gestured to the busted-up buildings around them, some of which had smoke billowing from their windows.

“Mind your own business,” sneered a guy with a baseball bat.

“The preservation of civilian safety _is_ my business.”

“Lotta big words,” growled a big blue guy with long red hair. “Might wanna dumb it down a little. I don’t think he understood you.”

The guy with the baseball bat growled.

Tony boosted his volume. “FINE. I’ll use small words so you can understand me: I am a super-hero. And I’m here to make sure you’re all safe.”

“Kinda late,” pointed out the big blue guy with the fur. “Sure you’re not just here to make humans look good, after hundreds’a mutants have already died?”

“I’m here to stop any future deaths!”

“Guess you shoulda watcher yer back then.” Something green smacked Tony across the back of his helmet, sending him smashing into the unforgiving bricks of the nearest building.

Whatever-it-was came back to punch him over and over again. Parts of his suit flashed red on his viewscreen, indicating the percent damage. Tony fired up his repulsors and blasted the green scaly guy on his ass; he skidded backwards across the street and smacked into a streetlamp. Tony turned on the crowd once more. “I’m warning you! Don’t mess with me. I don’t want to kill any of you. I just want you to be safe!”

“He knocked that guy right on his ass!” muttered a brown furry wolf-looking woman.

“He comes here speaking all high and mighty,” said a scaly fish-looking dude, “and then he picks a fight with a mutant!”

“They’re all the same!” said the big blue guy with the long red hair. “The humans think they’re better than us!”

The crowd murmured their agreement in a growing crescendo. The opposing crowd of humans drew their hands tighter around their baseball bats, their lamps, their hockey sticks, and whatever other improvised weapons they had.

“No!” Tony argued over the gathering crowd. “We don’t think we’re better! We’re all the same!”

“Speak for yourself, freak!” shouted a guy with a hockey stick. “All you supers are the same!”

“Yeah!” shouted a woman with a snapped-off leg of furniture brandished over her shoulder. “You come in here thinking you’re better than us, and what happens? People die!”

The crowd’s anger only grew.

Guilt sat heavy in Tony’s chest. “I know I’ve killed lots of people,” he argued with the air of the already-defeated, “but I was trying to do the right thing! Look into your hearts! Is this really what you want?”

Tony’s accusation was met with a resounding ‘YES’ before battle struck out again. The humans and the mutants fought with renewed vigor. Tony muttered to himself, “This is why they leave the motivational speeches to Cap,” and tried to find a way to stop the crowd from killing each other.

Metal pieces rained down from the sky, most of them rather large. Entire helicopters tumbled to the ground, crushed, burning, their pilots’ bodies trapped inside. One such helicopter was flung into the windows of a nearby building. It dragged a path of broken glass down the skyscraper before exploding on the ground. Tony flew away from the ‘copter before it exploded, adrenaline speeding his route, but when he turned to look back on the crowd he’d tried so hard to stop, what few were left barely mourned the dead before lashing out at the remnants of the other side.

Magneto’s attacks only seemed to increase. He formed giant clumps out of crushed metal and hurtled them at anyone who dared to attempt an attack. He seemed virtually untouchable.

Tony was in the middle of a war zone. The military kept sending in lambs to the slaughter, and Magneto didn’t bat an eye before slaughtering every single lamb that came his way. Not a single bullet touched him. The military seemed just as bad as the crowds below; instead of adjusting their strategy, and learning to fight smart, they only seemed to grow angrier and fight with more brute force. At this rate, tens of thousands would be dead by morning.


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey! You up there!”

Magneto’s fist closed. A burning helicarrier crumpled in on itself and tumbled to the ground. It decimated several buildings on its downward spiral. Magneto slowly turned towards the idiot who dared speak to him.

“Yeah, you!” Tony held out his repulsors towards Magneto. “Say cheese!” He fired.

Magneto blocked the blow by constructing a wall of nearby metal fragments. He snarled. “Stay out of this!”

“Can’t do that. You’re destroying the city.” Tony fired another blast.

Magneto blocked it and sent the metal fragments towards Tony, a swarm of stakes and shrapnel. Tony dodged it; something nicked his leg. A damage report flicked across his screen.

“All right, tough guy. You wanna play rough?” He circled around Magneto, blasting any nearby metal away from him.

“Your efforts are in vain.” Magneto raised his arms dramatically. The skyscraper below him quavered. Its metal bones sprouted from its roof.

“What did you have against that building?” Tony complained. “That was a nice building!”

Magneto drew the metal support beams out of the skyscraper and held them, suspended in the air, poised to strike. “Did you honestly think that you could defeat me? A lone man in a metal suit, versus the Master of Magnetism? I could crush you like a bug.”

“Then why don’t you!” Tony called out. “Too scared?”

“You throw away your chance at life,” Magneto scoffed. “You will not have another.” He sent the metal beams hurtling towards Tony, all at once.

Tony dodged them, but the beams flew after him as though magnetized. He darted and zigzagged in erratic directions until Magneto lost sight of him. The beams fell to the ground, crushing several civilians. Tony cursed. He dove to pick up the beams and hold them up so that any civilians could escape, but it was too late. Their blood pooled on the street.

Tony sped back towards Magneto in a rage. “You think you can take me, old man? Why don’t you go ahead!”

“Back for more?” Magneto asked in an almost bored tone of voice. He reached out as though to grab Tony’s suit. He seemed surprised that Tony did not stop. He tried harder. He stared at his hands in confusion, as though they had betrayed him. He glared at Tony.

“Tony!” called an unexpected voice. Captain America tumbled to a stop on the roof of a nearby building, recently dropped by the still-flying Sam Wilson. Cap’s face was pale and pinched.

“Aw,” Tony said. “Were you worried about me, Cap?”

Captain America seemed equally confused that Tony had not just been crushed into a pulp by Magneto.

“What?” Tony said. “Did you _really_ think I’d face the Master of Magnetism in a _metal suit?”_ Tony banged on his chestplate. “It’s plastic! Designed it especially for this kind of occasion. –Okay, originally, it was in case I ever needed to do something underwater, because iron rusts, and-”

“Tony, look out!” Cap’s shield flew past him and halted mid-air. Magneto glared at them, one hand raised.

“I got it!” Sam dove to retrieve Cap’s shield. He tugged at it where it remained suspended in mid-air.

“It doesn’t matter how many of you there are,” Magneto warned, “or what your suits are made of. There is metal in your _blood._ I can control the very iron flowing through you!” He thrust out his hands.

Cap’s shield dropped, taking Sam with it. Sam fell out of sight.

Steve and Tony strained, each suddenly filled with immense pain. They gritted their teeth and clenched their fists, tried to brace themselves, but their blood was being torn apart from the inside.

“ERIK!” Charles’s voice boomed. “THAT’S ENOUGH.”

Magneto lowered his hands and smirked over his shoulder. “Come to join me, Charles?”

“I’ve come to stop you!” Charles’s voice emitted from the loudspeakers of an aircraft hovering nearby.

“In a _metal_ plane?” Magneto sneered.

“You won’t destroy me.”

“You underestimate me, Charles.” Magneto held out his hands towards the plane.

Steve and Tony were released from their pain. Tony blacked out and plummeted towards the ground. Steve reached out with one hand, wheezing his name, but collapsed on the roof of his building. He was too weak to move.

Magneto turned the aircraft easily, bringing it to face him. “Don’t you get it, Charles?” He gestured to the destruction around him. “It is too late! The war has already begun. You cannot stop it with kind words or gestures of _brotherhood.”_

 “No,” Charles said. “Perhaps I cannot stop this fight. But I can stop _you.”_

“Have you forgotten? As long as I wear this helmet, your thoughts cannot penetrate me.”

“My thoughts cannot. But perhaps my love can.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“Erik… All these long years, you have been more than a friend to me. You have been a brother, a savior, an enemy, a rival. You have shown me right and wrong, lived in ways that I never could. You have constructed a place where mutants can live in peace, away from the pain and tyranny of those who do not understand. You have gathered hundreds of people who love you, who look to you for hope and salvation. There are _thousands_ of mutants counting on you, eager to follow whatever you order them to do. This is your army. These are the people you have failed.”

“Those mutants who followed me into battle were eager to fight! They fight even now, throughout this wretched city!”

“They fight out of _pain._ They fight for their right to _survive._ Erik… this is not the way to peace. We are becoming the very monsters humans fear us to be.”

“If they insist on seeing us this way, why attempt to be anything else? Why not let their fears come to fruitition!”

“Because we are better than that. If we are, indeed, the next step in human evolution, then we must prove that we are ready to wear that mantle of responsibility by taking the higher road, by accepting that there will always be those who do not understand. The way to persuade them is not through fear, but by _love.”_

“Your _love_ has cost you everything. Soon, it will cost you the lives of those you hold most dear!”

“Not if we stop this now.”

Magneto turned his back on the plane. He surveyed the smoldering city, the ruined buildings. “It is too late, Charles. We cannot stop this now.”

“If _you_ won’t stop it,” said Sam Wilson from his stance on the rooftop next to Captain America, “then we will.”

Captain America had revived; he was holding his shield. Behind and beside him stood his entire team of superheroes, ready to fight.

“My own daughter..?” Magneto observed with wonder.

Wanda stepped forward, hands aglow. “This is not how we win the war. People _fear_ us. We do not _want_ to be feared.”

“We want to _protect_ them,” added Tony, who hovered just behind them.

“You want to protect the very people which villainize you, which _demonize_ you and drag your names through the mud? You want to protect those who would have you locked up, who would have you wear a brand on your chest so that they know to avoid you in a crowd? The people who would have you _jailed_ just for being the way you are?”

“Yes, Magneto,” Charles said. “We want to protect those who _need_ protecting.”

“Even at the cost of your own life?”

“It doesn’t need to come to that.”

“It has _already_ come to that.”

“Erik… You are standing here, and I am standing here, surrounded by those who are still alive. As long as we live, there is still a chance for peace. The road may not be easy, but then, doing the right thing seldom is.”

Magneto’s shoulders eased. His expression grew reflective. “You truly have a gift with words, Charles.”

“As do you, Erik. As do you.” The Professor’s voice rang fond.

“You truly think we can stop this?” Magneto did not sound optimistic.

“It is too late to stop the damage to the city,” The Professor conceded, “but we _can_ prevent any further loss of life.”

“You know they will not forgive us,” Magneto said. “You know that by morning, anyone with powers will be considered a threat.”

“We already were!” Tony pointed out, kind of angrily. “You only made it worse!”

“That just means we’ll have to work even harder to do the right thing, and regain the public’s trust,” Captain America said.

“Seriously, how many gold stars did you get in Motivational Speaking class?” Tony said.

Magneto ignored Tony’s comment. “They won’t listen to us,” he warned. “We will all be considered villains, in their eyes.”

“The odds have always been against us,” Professor X said. “But that is no reason to give up.”

Magneto considered his words. He surveyed the group of heroes, including his own daughter, standing there, ready to fight. Ready to change the tide.

“I still think you are wrong,” Magneto conceded.

The Professor’s soft smile was audible as he spoke: “I suspect you’ll always think so.”

“We’ve been up here too long,” griped Wolverine. “What’s the plan, Cap?”

Captain America turned to face his group. “We save the city.”

“Not much on specifics,” Sam joked, “are you.”

“Everybody grab a partner- preferably one who flies.”

Tony swooped down to pick up Captain America. Ant-Man shrunk and hopped onto Wanda’s shoulder. Wolverine linked an arm around Susan’s waist. Sam rolled his eyes and picked up a frowning Bucky. Hawkeye looked around kind of confused. Wanda smiled and beckoned. Hawkeye grinned and ran over; he jumped on piggyback and linked his arms around her neck.

At Cap’s instruction, they headed for the ground and spread out.

“You know,” Tony said on their way down, “I’m still mad at you about the whole your-zombie-boyfriend-killing-my-parents thing.”

“He’s not a zombie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, but- hey. You didn’t deny the boyfriend thing.”

There was a pause. Tony steered them around the corner of a building.

“Does _everyone_ know how I felt about him?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, Cap.”

“…He’s not my boyfriend. Technically. We haven’t… really discussed the terms of our relationship, yet.”

“But you like him. And he likes you.”

“I’m… not denying that.” Cap’s face was pink.

“Oh come on. He breaks through seventy years of brainwashing because you said what was basically a _marriage_ vow, you run from the law and half your friends the moment he’s in trouble, you save each other’s lives _multiple_ times, and you expected the world to, what. Still think you were straight?”

“I… hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Of course you didn’t. Because all you were thinking about was Bucky. –Come on, let’s fight this Sentinel. I wanna kick some ass.”

*

The fight raged on through morning. By the time the reddened dawn spread across the horizon, the riots had been contained, and the mutants had stopped attacking, but half of Washington, D.C. was in shambles.

Several groups of tired heroes wiped the blood and the sweat from their faces, their only desire to return to their homes, and their beds. A few traded comments about longing for food, or a shower.

But when the city woke, the heroes were greeted with anything but a warm reception. Civilians were horrified by the carnage around them. The death toll had risen to the thousands. Many streets had been rendered impassable due to the debris, and the bodies.

As the bloody sun rose higher in the bleak orange sky, many civilians rushed into the streets to mourn their loved ones, to pull bodies out of the debris, to stand in front of decimated store fronts and scratch their heads, wondering how they would earn the money for repairs, or where they would go to buy their favorite bagels. Pain and horror hung, palpable in the air.

Each time a costumed superhero was sighted, angry fingers were jabbed in their direction. Accusations of “Mutant!” and “You caused this!” caused many tired heroes to bow their heads, to slink away and dodge the garbage being thrown at them.

Here and there, sad and broken-sounding police sirens wailed.

“I can explain,” attempted Captain America, standing next to a gun-toting Bucky Barnes, who stood hunched over an unconscious, bleeding civilian.

“Put your hands up!” barked the police officer with a gun pointed at them.

“Officer,” the Captain said, “With all due respect, we were trying to _help.”_

“I said put your hands up!”

Bucky drew his gun and pointed it at the police officer. His lip curled up in a snarl.

Cap barely had time to glance at him, for the horror to cross his features, before shots rang out. Bucky fell to the ground.

“BUCKY!”

Wanda paused in the street and turned with a frown. She’d heard the Captain’s distressed shout. “Do you think we should turn back?” she asked.

“No,” Wolverine said. “Cap is on his own.”

Susan was leaning heavily on him, pale and haggard, her hand pressed to her side.

Gun shots rang out.

“But he sounds like he’s in trouble.” Wanda faltered.

“Yeah? So are we. If we don’t keep movin’, we’ll be next.”

“I’m going back.”

Wanda flew to where she’d heard the shout; a police car passed under her with its siren blaring. But when she got there, all she found was a pile of dead bodies, tire tracks, and a smear of blood on the pavement.

*

Xavier Mansion looked more like a hospital than a school for the gifted. The medical wing overflowed into nearby hallways and bedrooms; bloody bandages and casts were more numerous than those wearing them. The few unaffected- Beast, Professor X, and Wolverine- prowled from bed to bed, offering kind words and sustenance, or in Wolverine’s case, gruff assurance that it could have been worse.

“It wasn’t mah fault,” Rogue sobbed over the unconscious Kitty Pryde. “Ah didn’t mean to-!”

Kitty’s heart monitor bleeped. She breathed through an oxygen mask.

Wolverine rested a hand on Rogue’s shoulder. “We know ya didn’t mean to, kid. You probably saved her life.”

Negasonic Teenage Warhead watched them gloomily, clutching her half-heart necklace.

“It probably could have been worse,” Bobby said from where he lay with a brace around his neck.

“Speak for yourself, mon ami.” Gambit was bent over the unconscious form of Johnny Storm, who had heavy cuts on his face, bruises all up and down one side of his body, and an entirely broken arm. The small band of gauze wound around Gambit’s thigh seemed nothing in comparison.

“Johnny’ll be all right,” Bobby said optimistically. “He’s tough, like me!” Bobby coughed. For a moment, he struggled breathing. Beast, alerted to his distress, elevated Bobby’s head by adjusting the angle of the upper side of his mattress.

“At least _he_ got knocked up savin’ kids from a burnin’ building,” Rogue lamented, “instead’a runnin’ into some _klutz.”_

Negasonic Teenage Warhead sighed heavily. “Stop beating yourself up. We feel bad enough already.”

“Ellie is right,” Storm said from where she lay reclined, with gauze wrapped around her chest. “We must embrace the positives. We must not be too harsh on ourselves.”

Jean Grey stroked Cyclops’s hair. Half of his head was covered in bloody gauze. He appeared to be sleeping. “Turn on the television,” she said.

“What for?” Beast asked.

“There’s bound to be a report,” Jean stated. “I know the destruction won’t be easy to stomach, but… I want to see what good we did.”

“Didn’t we see enough last night?” griped Wolverine. He held Susan’s head up as she took a drink of water.

Rogue eyed them with pain.

“We were too close to the action,” Jean said. “I want to get an overview of the city. Please.”

“It would be good for us, I think,” the Professor agreed. He turned on the television.

_“-the arrest of Captain America. Officers say he, and long-time friend-turned-renegade, Bucky Barnes, were found in an alley next to a pile of dead bodies. Captain America defended his once-friend, known to some as The Winter Soldier, a deadly assassin working for HYDRA, the very man who recently killed the king of Wakanda. However, given Captain America’s evident bias towards the supposedly ex-assassin, officers were reluctant to accept his claims at face value._

_“The pair was arrested at 6:38 this morning, and wait in D.C. jail, to face their trial this afternoon._

_“Police were unable to find fellow heroes-turned-renegades, ‘Hawkeye’, ‘Falcon,’ and ‘Ant-Man’, last seen supporting and fighting beside Captain America, in an effort to defend his friend Bucky. Police are on the lookout for these potentially dangerous individuals._

_“Police were also unable to apprehend the terrorist who calls himself Magneto; after destroying two-thirds of our Washington D.C.-based military, causing untold millions of dollars’ worth of damage to both private and government property, and killing over two thousand people, in what is possibly this country’s worst, largest, and most devastating act of terrorism within our borders, Magneto was seen apparently helping the X-Men in an attempt to lessen the damage to the city; however, this civilian video, recorded on a bystander’s Stark Phone, shows him leaving the X-Men and going his own way, just as the first police arrived._

_“Some civilians have voiced complaint that the police did not show up earlier, but the police say they were investigating a larger crime at the time the attacks began. When asked for clarification, the chief of police simply said, ‘It’s classified.’_

_“Among the super-powered individuals seen attempting to reverse the damage caused by Magneto are Iron Man, several members of the X-Men, and, interestingly, all four members of the recently disbanded Fantastic Four. In the midst of blood and fire, it seems that perhaps Susan Storm may be leaving her husband for a new love interest—”_

A shaky video of Wolverine snarling and withdrawing his claws in order to catch a falling beam, while Susan crouched and formed a force field around them, filled the screen. Wolverine’s muscles strained on-screen. As soon as Susan’s shield was up, he scooped her into his arms and carried her away from the falling beam. Her shield dissipated, and she lay limp, with her head resting against his shoulder.

Rogue swallowed, pale, stood, and left the room.

Negasonic Teenage Warhead glanced at the motion. Her gaze flicked to Wolverine, who was watching Rogue with concern, but he did not get up to follow her. Instead, he curled protectively around Susan’s weak form.

Reed Richards sent a grim glance their way. He still wore his ring.

_“In fact, love seemed to be in the air not for just one, but two members of the Fantastic Four.”_

The screen showed Ben Grimm tucking and rolling Emma Frost out of the way in order to protect her from a large chunk of falling debris. She seemed disoriented, as though she had been caught by surprise. She seemed even more surprised when she cast her gaze upon the face of her savior. Her mouth formed to say his name, but Ben shoved her off of himself and took up a battle stance once more. Emma’s gaze lingered on him before they resumed their action.

_“Yes, even in the midst of chaos and destruction, these costumed crusaders seemed to find time to form new friendships.”_

A picture of Johnny and Remy was shown on-screen; Johnny’s eyes were pleading, and he was on fire. Remy’s eyes were also pleading. He gripped his bo-staff tight with both hands, his mouth ajar as though about to say something. Johnny’s jaw was drawn tight, squared in a manner reminiscent of Captain America. He appeared both stubborn and resolved. Just behind him was a burning building labeled ‘Children’s Hospital.’

The next shot whisked in like a bad powerpoint presentation, depicting Johnny, now only half on-fire, with his arms thrown around Remy’s upper back, his face buried in his neck. Remy’s arms were caught half-in-the-action of coming up to hold him; his grip on the bo-staff had eased, now one-handed.

_“-and rekindle old ones.”_

Steve and Bucky were shown fighting side-by-side. Steve’s shield was drawn up to protect both of them.

“Friendships,” Wolverine echoed sarcastically. “Is _that_ what they call ‘em now.”

“Hush, Wolverine.”

“Hush yerself, Cajun. Maybe make out with him on camera next time. See ‘em try to make ‘friendship’ outta _that.”_

Gambit snorted.

“Quiet!” Cyclops barked. “I’m trying to hear this.”

_“-has risen to three thousand, with five thousand injured, and still rising. This reporter wonders, when will it be enough? When will this end?”_

“It’ll end when ya stop attackin’ us,” Wolverine growled.

“That’s enough,” Jean said. She turned off the television.

“So,” Wolverine said, “now ya know.”

Jean Grey regarded the room solemnly.

“What did you expect? That they’d consider us ‘heroes’? That they’d _thank_ us fer not burnin’ the whole city down?”

Jean gave him a look.

“Hey,” Cyclops barked from his bed, unable to move, “Back down, Wolverine! Jean said she wanted to know how many people we saved.”

“I didn’t hear any numbers,” Wolverine growled. “All I heard was ‘three thousand dead’ and ‘property damage.’ That’s all they care about.”

“Even if they do come off as ungrateful,” announced the Professor, “we must not allow that to belittle our actions. Because of our efforts, thousands were saved. Without us, the death toll would have been much higher.”

“Dat may be,” Gambit said, “but Ah fo’ one would feel a lot bettah if de death toll didn’ affect _us.”_

“What’re you sayin, Cajun?” Wolverine growled. “None of us died last night.”

“Perhaps no one we knew personally,” the Professor said, “but I wonder if the mutants sent by Magneto were counted among the dead.”

“Probably not,” Gambit said darkly. “Dey considah us as _less_ dan human.”

“We are no more _or_ less human than they are,” Professor X said.

“If only we could make them see that,” Jean Grey lamented.

“We will,” the Professor said. “Someday, we will.”

*

**Epilogue**

Until that ‘someday’ the Professor spoke of, there was plenty of trouble ahead for the X-Men, and anyone else who considered themselves a hero. The Superhero Registration Act would be cracked down upon within the week, despite having half a month left of its grace period. Sentinels still roamed the streets. There was a bounty out on Magneto, and a reward offered to anyone who could capture him and bring him to justice.

The Trial of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes went on for days. The court went through every crime The Winter Soldier had ever committed, showed photograph after photograph of Barnes at the crime scene, ran a few surveillance videos dating back to the early nineties, and displayed page after page of successful mission reports. Despite the insistent defense of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and the chilling evidence they provided, proving that Barnes had been captured and brainwashed against his will, tortured, and punished whenever a mission did not go according to Hydra’s plan, the court kept coming back to the most recent killing, that of the Wakandan king. “He was not brainwashed at the time,” the prosecutor stated. “In fact, if the man before us is to be believed, if his friend’s words are true, and he has indeed been regaining his memories since the incident with the helicarrier in 2014, Barnes was not only aware of himself, but to such a deep degree as to have a _conscience_ about the matter.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Tony powered down his repulsors and landed on the court room floor. He clicked a button and flicked back his mask. He strode forward, ignoring the confusion and protest at his arrival. “Binky here _was_ himself at the time of the crime. In fact, here’s a surveillance feed demonstrating _exactly_ where he was.” He projected a video feed of a busy marketplace, selling fresh produce. Tony zoomed in on a plum stand, where a man in a jacket and a baseball cap was hunched over, with his back turned to the camera, having what appeared to be a brief, friendly conversation with the vender. “Wait for it…” The man paid for his plums and turned around. The guy in the hat was clearly Bucky.

“He could have bought plums at _any_ time,” the tired prosecutor argued.

“But he didn’t. He bought them _exactly_ at the same time that _this_ happened.” The projection went split-screen and showed the upper floor of a building blowing up, and the now-familiar footage of Barnes running away from the explosion. The camera zoomed in on his face. “Now,” Tony said, “I would like to direct your attention towards _this_ little number.” He zoomed in on the timestamps for both video feeds. Both had exactly the same time stamp.

The court called for a recess to consider the evidence.

Once court resumed session, however, Barnes was cleared of all charges. It was decided that his time as The Winter Soldier was punishment enough, and the charges of him assassinating the Wakandan king were suspended until further notice. There were a few dissenting voices, and a murmur that rose up over how Barnes had apparently been in two places at once, but that evidence was to be examined more closely at another time.

The first photograph that went viral within minutes occurred shortly after the trial ended. Barnes stood, weary and haggard, having re-lived all of his worst memories for four days, after being on the run for false accusations for several months. Despite being cleared of all charges, every line of his exhausted body spelled out guilt and self-hatred. Steve Rogers marched towards him, face pinched, lips thinned, jaw set, and did not even pause: he immediately engulfed Barnes in a warm hug.

The second photograph that went viral occurred shortly thereafter. Barnes stood there, dazed, for a moment while the Captain spoke impassioned, reassuring words into his neck. Barnes looked as though he did not feel he deserved the hug, but as the Captain’s muffled soliloquy went on, Barnes’s expression turned pained, broken, and finally, he returned the embrace. A tear flowed down his cheek.

The third photograph that went viral happened a moment later, when the Captain wiped Barnes’s tear away with his thumb.

The fourth photograph that went viral involved Barnes smiling against the Captain’s mouth as Steve Rogers kissed him for all he was worth. The expression on Rogers’s face was stern, impassioned, as though he were stubbornly trying to convince Barnes that every word in Barnes’s defense rang true. The expression on Barnes’s face was perhaps the most eased expression the press had seen to-date.

And the fifth photograph that went viral occurred moments later. Captain Rogers had marched up to Tony with an earnest expression on his face. Stark had casually asked what was up. To this, Captain Rogers replied, simply, ‘thank you,’ and pulled Stark into a warm embrace.

Publicly, their feud was over.

Ben Grimm, Susan, and Johnny Storm were all offered to formally join the X-Men; Johnny accepted right away, and was promptly hug-tackled by Jubilee, while a warmly smirking Gambit looked on.

Ben Grimm respectfully declined and left for a long vacation. “I’m gonna drink some vodka on a beach if it kills me.” He exited Xavier Mansion in board shorts and sunglasses, carrying a large suitcase.

Susan was uncertain. “I don’t know if I belong here.”

“You could.” Logan locked eyes with Susan.

Susan hugged herself and shifted her weight. “What about Captain America? If he needs my help again…”

“He’ll let you know.” Logan stepped closer.

“But what if he needs me?”

“Susan.” Logan curled one finger under her chin and slowly tilted her face upward. “Do what you _want_ for once.”

“What I want…?” Susan’s eyes flickered across his face.

“Yeah,” Logan replied, quiet, one side of his mouth curled upward. “Isn’t that why ya left Reed in the first place?”

“I…” Susan broke eye contact, hesitant. Guilty.

“You what?” Logan asked gently.

“I’m not sure if… this is the right thing.”

“If _what_ is the right thing?”

Susan’s pretty eyebrows furrowed. She bit her lip. “What I want, and what is right, might not be the same thing.”

“And what’s that?” He cradled her face with one hand. The other found its way to her waist.

“I have to legally file for a divorce from him,” Susan said instead of answering. “He’s… still my husband.”

“What does Reed being your husband have to do with you joining the X-Men?” Logan asked, his voice warm and amused.

“I can’t..! Logan, I’m still married!”

Logan kept smirking. She didn’t back away. Neither did he. “I’m not asking you to do anything. All I’ve said is, ‘do you want to join the X-Men’, and ‘you should do what you want.’”

Susan looked like she wanted to argue, but she remained silent. Then, she looked like she was warring with herself internally, and felt guilty about it.

Logan crowded into her space. The air between them warmed. “Maybe,” Logan suggested, “what you want isn’t to join the Avengers _or_ the X-Men. Maybe what you _want_ is a chance at freedom.” He stroked her hair, let the golden waves sift between his fingers.

“Yes,” Susan whispered.

“-to be _yourself_ without people _counting_ on you,” he continued, stroking her hair more sensually.

 _“Yes,”_ Susan whispered. Her head tilted back; her eyes fluttered shut.

 _“Take_ it, Susan,” Logan rumbled. His fist tightened in her hair. “ _Do_ what you want.”

Susan surged forward, grabbed both sides of his face, and kissed him.

Logan wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

Far across Xavier Mansion, Reed Richards was quietly declining Beast’s offer to join the X-Men. Beast assured him, sadly, that he would be welcome at any time. Reed Richards’s resigned smile was a touch grim. He thanked Beast, turned, and left.

On his way out, he stumbled across a particularly sweet kiss being exchanged between Remy and Johnny. Remy pulled back, cradling Johnny’s face with both hands, and gave him an utterly smitten look. Johnny seemed a little dazed, but his face echoed the expression twofold.

Reed’s expression turned a little more bleak, a little more broken. He walked outside. Halfway down the walkway, he stopped, and took the ring from his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! xoxo
> 
> There is probably more to come <3


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